


Worth

by Seastar98



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Korkie is a Kenobi, Mand'alor Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, lineage feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seastar98/pseuds/Seastar98
Summary: "Is it true?"The answer was obvious. He could see it in the twist of guilt on her lips and sorrow in her eyes. She reached towards him as though to offer comfort in her betrayal."Yes."Obi-Wan took a moment to breathe. She lied to him, but that didn't matter right now.Korkie Kryze was in danger.His son was in danger.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Korkie Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 212
Kudos: 683





	1. Obi-Wan...You Are The Father

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! I've seen a lot of memes about Korkie being Obi-Wan and Satine's kid and decided to write a fic about the repercussions if that were true and became public knowledge.

Death Watch had abducted Korkie Kryze.

An underhanded act by a disgraced group, but this was different. This wasn't some act of terror or retaliation against Satine.

No, there was something else going on.

“Is it true?” 

Obi-Wan reigned in his anger. Arguing wasn’t going to help right now. They could shout at each other until their throats were sore, but words weren’t going to change the situation. He took a deep breath and tried to let go of his feelings of betrayal. He fought back the urge to cry, to scream and rebel against the Force’s reassurance.

Why did everyone he love lie to him?

He was never enough for Qui-Gon. His Master abandoned him on Melida/Daan to lead an army of children alone. Even when they got past that, moved on from Bruck’s death and both of their romantic entanglements, he was betrayed. He finally thought he was good enough only to be repudiated for a boy his Master had known for a handful of days.

Force knew that boy grew up to be a strong and willful knight.

He raised Anakin but his younger brother didn’t trust him. Yes, he trusted him with his life, with the lives of his Padawan and his men, but he didn’t trust him with his secrets or his heart. He didn’t want him in whatever life he was building with Padme. 

As soon as this war was over, Anakin would leave.

Obi-Wan was happy that he found peace. He was glad he found love. He pretended to be ignorant of their relationship. It was beyond painful that his Padawan didn't trust him with that part of himself, or worse, thought him so inhuman he wouldn’t understand what it meant to love another person.

At least he and Siri had an understanding. Duty before feelings, even if that duty meant lying to him and pretending to leave the Order. Even when duty led to her dying in his arms.

Satine didn’t lie to him. She was Mandalorian, deception was cowardice. She never shied away from sharing her opinion. She didn’t back down in an argument. He told her everything of importance in his life. He trusted her with his heart, his very soul, and thought she did as well. 

He truly believed she wouldn’t lie to him, not about anything important.

Siths hell, she told him she loved him.

He took a deep breath again, and forced himself to look into her eyes on the holoprojector. As distorted as they were, he could see her sorrow, her guilt. He knew what the answer was before she whispered, “Yes.”

Obi-Wan cut the call short, turning away from the watching eyes of his men. Anakin prodded at his shields along their bond, worried about his well-being. He just strengthened his shields. He could let his hurt out later, when Anakin and Ahsoka weren’t around to realize how deep it went. He didn’t want them to worry more than they already were.

“Master Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka prodded gently.

He entered the frequency for the Council meeting. He’d talk to his Padawan and Grandpadawan later. 

It was a full Council meeting. He pushed down his resentment when he saw their faces. It was so hard to find a time that all of them could meet, but this was considered an emergency. 

They thought this would break him.

“Obi-Wan,” Mace leaned forward, “What did the Duchess say?”

“Korkie Kryze is my son,” He confirmed, the words barely feeling real to him, “Satine hid the truth because of the tensions between the Jedi and her people.”

He didn’t ask her, but it was the reason he left. Her people would not have accepted him as her lover, much less her husband or co-leader. The resulting attempts on his life would have placed her in danger. Simply staying on Mandalore threatened the peace she worked so hard to build, so he left. He stayed away. 

If he’d known about his son...that wouldn’t have changed anything.

But he would have found a way to visit. 

“You don’t look surprised,” Master Poof noted.

He sent him a withering look, “Birth control wasn’t high on my list of necessary supplies when trying to protect her. I wasn’t aware until moments ago that Korkie is my son, but I didn’t think it was impossible.”

“Irresponsible, you were,” Master Yoda shook his head, “Attached to the Duchess, you should not have become.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes at the criticism. He could argue that he was young and no more irresponsible than many young knights. His creation of a new life was more statistics than any unique behavior on his part. He could say it was due to having Qui-Gon as a Master that he fell in love with the nearest person to him in a crisis.

But he had other goals for this meeting that weren’t being criticized for his perceived mistakes.

“I’ve never been the Jedi I could be,” He placed his hands on the holoprojector, leaning slightly on it, “I’ve fallen in love more times than anyone else I know, but I’ve always been trusted to balance that love with my duty. As I see it, this revelation is no different, unless this has caused the Council to lose trust in me.”

He wasn’t normally so direct, but he was exhausted.

“We trust you,” Kit frowned, “But Obi-Wan, this is different from your usual...intrigues.”

“You’re concerned I’ll become too attached,” Obi-Wan glanced between the other eleven Masters, “Just as you are concerned I am too attached to Anakin, but I am tired of having to prove myself. I didn’t burn Melida/Daan to the ground when Cerasi died. I didn’t run off on my own to hunt the Sith when Qui-Gon died. I didn’t even kill the bounty hunter who killed Siri.”

“I’ll admit that if I get to know my son, I will love him, and with love comes some attachment, but I thought by now I have proven I won’t fall from it,” Few could meet his gaze, “My attachments have caused all my brushes with the Dark Side, but a Jedi’s strength does not come from avoiding darkness. It comes from facing that darkness, and choosing the light.”

It was an argument they’d had before. 

Mace pinched the bridge of his nose, “We can’t change the Code because you have a son.”

It was always a life goal of his to make it on the Council and institute some reforms. He understood where his Grandmaster was coming from when he said that the Republic and the Order needed to change. Unlike Dooku, he still believed those changes were possible.

Yet the Order didn’t want to change because of the war.

“I’m not asking to change the Code because of me,” He focused on the Master of the Order, “We hold ourselves back out of fear of getting too close, and that was fine before. Now, we are at war. We spend more time on our star destroyers than in the Temple. For many of us that means being alone, as we avoid becoming too attached to our troops.”

“Yes, we have the Force, but it’s not as reassuring as it used to be. There is so much darkness through the Galaxy...it’s hard to find the light, to find peace,” He continued, “We are isolating ourselves, and when we stand alone and feel alone, we are easier to defeat. I suggest changing the Code because everything is changing and if we remain stagnant we will be destroyed.”

His words hung in the silence. He could feel Anakin’s jaw dropping. Ahsoka’s hands were covering her mouth to prevent any noise from coming out. He wondered just how good he was at shielding if neither of them knew his beliefs regarding the Code and the Council. 

There was a reason he was in this lineage of mavericks.

“I agree with Obi-Wan,” Plo joined in, “I find great comfort in my men, and I know many Jedi refrain from doing the same out of fear of becoming too attached.”

“I agree as well,” Shaak Ti nodded solemnly, “For centuries, the Jedi have fought alone, but we cannot win this war alone. There’s a reason Skywalker and Obi-Wan are so successful, and it’s because they fight for each other as much as they fight for the Republic.”

He smiled at her, even as Anakin made a choked noise in the background. It was tradition for a Master and Padawan to work far apart after the latter’s knighthood. The first few years were meant to create separation so both could learn to be more independent.

What he and Anakin had was dangerously close to codependency. Where he went, Anakin followed, and vice versa. No one could deny they pulled off the impossible on a regular basis. It wouldn’t matter if the circumstances weren’t so dire, but sometimes he didn’t look forward to the day when the war would finish and the Team would be dissolved.

Adi Gallia smiled slightly, “That was part of the reason we sent Obi-Wan and Siri on so many missions together as well.”

“We should not hold back from love out of fear of attachment,” Obi-Wan lifted his chin, well aware he was being defiant, “Love sustains us.”

“It can also destroy us,” Ki-Adi Mundi countered.

“Solitude will just as surely destroy us,” He repeated.

“And yet you insist on handling all your problems alone,” Mace grumbled, “Though that isn’t your fault.”

It was what he was taught. Qui-Gon left him alone more often than not. He didn’t have a dependable Master, so he learned to be far more independent than his peers. His friends were always there to help him with the aftermath, but rarely the cause. 

“I was thirteen when I fought my first battle, fourteen when I won a war. I knew what it was like to fight day after day until the days blurred together long before this war started, and that is why I sit on this Council,” He stared straight ahead, “My attachments kept me grounded. They kept me sane. I wouldn’t have made it without my friends by my side.”

“Enough!” Yoda called, banging his gimmer stick on the ground, “Discuss changing the Code, we will later. For now, in danger, your son is, Obi-Wan. Plan, do you have?”

“Of course.” He stood up straighter, “I intend to challenge Pre Vizsla for control of the Death Watch.”

It was risky, but the biggest risk was to himself. 

Satine would never forgive him for leading the Death Watch, but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore for her forgiveness. As much as he understood her reasons...it hurt. 

It would always hurt.


	2. The Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan vs. Pre Vizsla.
> 
> "Being unconquerable lies with yourself; being conquerable lies with the enemy. Thus one who excels at warfare is able to make himself unconquerable." -Sun Tzu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to challenge myself and write two chapters from the same character's POV. I know, I know, shocking if you've read any of my other stories. Promise I'll branch out in the next chapters.

There were some things you didn’t forget.

Obi-Wan remembered the first time he held a blaster. If he closed his eyes, he could see the grim expression on Nield’s face when he pressed it into his hands, telling him he needed a weapon if he was going to survive. Then Cerasi took him out of the caves and into the forest to teach him to truly aim instead of depending on the Force.

He turned out to be good with them. 

He was still good with them. 

He never forgot the first time he put on his armor either. He earned it, according to the Protectors, about two months into his mission on Mandalore. It was a dark blue, a mix of the Protectors’ colors and those of Clan Kryze. Satine was both immensely satisfied with herself and also disappointed. This armor marked him as hers, but she intended to destroy the tradition.

He didn’t know how to put it on the first time.

By end of his year there, it was another thing he couldn’t forget.

For the longest time, he tried to put this behind him. Like Satine, he thought he could throw the armor aside and pretend the warrior beneath was equally gone. He used to hate that he was good at fighting. He despised that combat was the only area of his training he naturally excelled in. He tried to make himself a man of peace rather than a man of action.

He tried to be what others wanted him to be, but he was never enough.

As he strapped the plates into place, he gave up trying. The Republic could call him the Negotiator. The Jedi Order could call their members peacekeepers, but he was tired of lying to himself.

Do or do not. There was no such thing as trying.

He was a warrior. He was a soldier. He was a General. He would be Mand’alor.

He was no longer ashamed of that.

There was no point in running away from the truth anymore. War was in his past, war was his present, and in all likelihood war would be in his future. The only thing he could do was accept it.

As long as something was worth fighting for, he was going to fight for it. The only peace he could hope to find was within himself.

He pulled on the gauntlets, checking that the weapons systems were running. He connected the controls to the jetpack and strapped that to his back. From there, all that was left was the helmet. He rubbed at his face. The older warriors warned him how uncomfortable beards could be beneath helmets.

It only took a few minutes to shave it off. 

He had the helmet now to hide his expression. He didn’t need the beard anymore.

“General,” His comm beeped, “Rau and his men are waiting in the hangar.”

“On my way,” He answered, slipping another comm link into his helmet.

Anakin was waiting for him outside his quarters. His former Padawan didn’t say anything when the Council meeting concluded, but there were so many emotions within him he likely didn't know where to start. It must be a surprise for him to see his old Master as anything other than the perfect Jedi. 

He walked by him towards the lift, “If you have something to say, by all means say it.”

“You should have told me about Siri,” The young Knight settled on.

Interesting. Then again, they both didn't talk about their pasts. Maybe he felt he had a right to know about Siri because he was there. 

“Ah yes, because you tell me everything,” The doors opened, and he pressed the button to take them to the level with the hangar bays.

“Maybe we should,” Anakin said slowly, “Start telling each other things, I mean. It’s not healthy to carry all that alone.”

He must have spoken to Padme before coming to him. Obi-Wan sighed, “I only brought it up to the Council to get them to agree to my plan quicker.”

His former Padawan’s eyebrows raised, “I thought emotional arguments didn’t work on them.”

“Your emotional arguments, not mine,” He stepped off the lift, “They failed me plenty of times in my youth, and Melida/Daan...well, it was a mission where I was hurt because the Council chose to believe I was acting out of arrogance and attachment rather than following the will of the Force.”

“Kinda like this then,” And there was a small smile. The one that told him they were alright for now.

This wouldn’t be the end of his inquiries/demands. Obi-Wan gave him a lead into his past. Melida/Daan was public knowledge, even if his involvement wasn’t advertised. From Melida/Daan there would be questions. Why had Qui-Gon left him? How hard was it to come back to the Order? Why did he come back to the Order at all?

Those questions would open up an entirely different box of memories that he wasn’t going to worry about right now.

“Exactly,” He returned the smile.

Their men were staring at him, admiring real beskar’gam. Anakin took a step closer, “Then what you said about me…”

“A reminder of my willingness to ignore them when it comes to a child I’m responsible for,” He didn’t look to see what effect his words had.

He thought it was obvious that he loved Anakin. He didn't want to think that he'd failed to communicate that properly. 

“Are you responsible for Korkie?” His former Padawan asked, changing the topic. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. His son was currently in danger because of him, but without the threat of Death Watch he would be relatively safe. Dooku and Grievous couldn’t touch him without angering the Neutral Systems. Ventress was off on her own. It was certainly safer for him on Mandalore than with him on a star destroyer. 

“I’m as responsible for Korkie as he wants me to be,” He decided, “If he wants to stay with me, I’ll find a way to let him. If he wants nothing to do with me, I’ll return him to Satine.”

Nearly fifteen years was a long time to be absent from someone’s life, and he understood that family didn’t have to be blood relatives. Him being his biological father didn’t have to mean anything. 

Obi-Wan wanted it to, but he wouldn’t force himself where he wasn’t wanted.

“Kenobi!” Rau prevented them from discussing it further, “Are you ready to deal with the traitors?”

“Only Vizsla,” He reminded him, “I want as little bloodshed as possible.”

“That might be beyond our control,” The leader of the Protectors grimaced.

“Be that as it may, I don’t want to start another civil war,” He adjusted his grip on his helmet, “Fenn Rau, this is Anakin Skywalker-”

“Your son,” Rau completed, holding out his hand, “It’s an honor to meet you, General.”

Anakin glanced at him, before accepting the handshake politely, “I’m grateful for you and your men’s help training our soldiers.”

“They follow our ways with more honor than the likes of Vizsla,” The Mando’ad nodded to the troopers around them, then continued searching, “Where is your daughter, Kenobi? I would like to thank her for her help with the former Prime Minister.”

Anakin sent him another look, but he didn’t have time to explain Mandalorian culture to him. He just chuckled, “I would like only one child of mine to be in danger at a time,” That got some amusement from the Mando’ade, “I’m sure you’ll meet her after we save Korkie.”

He sobered somewhat, “I should have known the little lord was yours. He’s always had a way of finding trouble.”

“Let’s hope he also inherited my inclination to survive,” He finally placed the helmet on his head. 

He found it easier to breathe than he remembered, and it barely impaired his ability to see and hear. He led the way to the transport Cody and Oddball would be piloting to break the atmosphere.

“I still think I should come with you,” Anakin muttered.

“This is something I have to do alone,” He replied.

“Just...don’t die.”

“I won’t.”

This was what he was good at.

***********************************

Vizsla was waiting for them when they walked into the camp.

Obi-Wan refused to be intimidated, “Will you face me honorably, Vizsla?”

“Honorably?” The man sneered, “What honor do you claim to have?”

"More than the likes of you," Obi-Wan noted the position of the other warriors.

That sparked his ire, “Did your precious Duchess send you?"

“She doesn’t control me,” He took a step closer, “I’m no pacifist.”

“Do you think you can kill me?” Vizsla taunted.

“Let’s find out,” He drew himself up to his full height, “I, Obi-Wan Kenobi of House Kryze, challenge you, Pre Vizsla of House Vizsla, to a duel.”

A challenge according to the ancient customs. Everyone was watching the Mand’alor now, waiting to see if he would accept. After all, he was the one that ordered the abduction of his son. Short of killing him, there were fewer offenses that could call for this course of action. 

They all knew he earned this armor the traditional way. To reject his right to combat was impossible, not without looking like a coward.

“You ask for death,” Vizsla pulled out the darksaber, “I accept.”

This was it. This was what the Force was preparing him for his entire life.

He let go of his control. He let his anger fill him, let his protective rage focus him. It wasn’t quite the Dark Side. He didn’t intend to drag this on longer than needed or cause Vizsla unnecessary suffering. He wasn’t losing himself. Yet he couldn’t confidently say that he was entirely in the light as he drew his blasters. 

His lightsaber stayed securely clipped to his belt. If he was going to prove himself to these warriors, he was going to fight like them.

Which meant not relying on the Force. The jetpack propelled him upwards. The whip brought his enemy closer whenever he wanted. His blasters forced his opponent back. He activated his shield to block the return fire. 

Not that there was much of that. Vizsla wanted to bring the fight closer. The darksaber was best used in close-quarter combat.

His technique was almost nonexistent. He depended on the inherent superiority of the plasma blade instead of learning to actually wield it. 

The kyber crystal within was begging for him to take the blade.

So he did.

When he was a child and went to his Gathering, his crystal forced him to confront his biggest weakness. Doubt. He had to prove to it that he believed in himself by leaping across a series of stalagmites. He didn’t think he could do it. He thought he would definitely slip or not make it to the next one, but the thought of failing to get a crystal at all…

It was unthinkable. So he swallowed his doubts and took a leap of faith.

In his hand, the darksaber’s crystal hummed contentedly within its hilt. It respected strength. Strength of mind, strength of body, strength of purpose. It wanted its wielder to have a firm resolve, to be unbreakable. 

It felt heavier than his own lightsaber, but he knew with time it would become easier to use. In time, it would be another extension of himself.

He forced himself back into the moment, blocking Vizsla’s desperate attack and lunging forward to cut one of his arms off. The leader of the Death Watch fell to his knees as he gripped the cauterized stump of his arm. Obi-Wan lifted the darksaber to his neck, “Submit.”

“You’ll have to kill me,” Vizsla snarled.

He took his helmet off and looked away to address the watching crowd, “This is your folly! You define yourselves by your ability to kill, to dominate and possess. Living like that leaves only a legacy of destruction, of death,” He deactivated the blade, “You wonder why the people of Mandalore do not follow you? It is because you are not worthy of their allegiance.”

“You are traitors, terrorists, murderers, “ He could feel the burst of anger and shame from the gathered members. He turned fully away from Vizsla, “You’ve fallen so far that you allied with a dar’jetii, and in your arrogance thought he wouldn’t betray you,” Just as he thought, his opponent decided to attack once his back was turned.

How disgraceful. 

He turned the darksaber over in his hand to a reverse grip, and activated it. He felt Vizsla impale himself on the blade, but didn’t bother checking, “Dooku saw you for what you are. A weak group of radicals that will never achieve their goal,” He felt the man’s death, and forced his expression to not falter, “Not without changing your methods.”

Obi-Wan lifted the blade, “The way forward is not to ignore the past, but to embrace it. Division caused your fall, but unity will regain your honor. If you wish to see Mandalore restored to its rightful place in the Galaxy, you will follow me.”

Perhaps not his best speech, but there was no point in presenting an argument if they weren’t willing to listen. Fenn Rau and the other Protectors knelt as soon as he was finished. A few members of the Death Watch did as well, slowly joined by their compatriots. He stared at those who remained standing.

Unity or death. He didn’t think they’d take issue with his leadership given they asked Dooku for assistance. At least he hadn’t participated in Galidraan. Besides, the darksaber had once belonged to a Jedi. Perhaps it was its destiny to be used by another. 

None decided to leave, and the remaining standers steadily knelt before him. 

He did it. 

“A warrior is more than their armor!” He declared, lifting the darksaber higher, “We will reclaim the honor of the Death Watch, then we will reclaim Mandalore!”

He was Mand’alor now.

His people gave a rousing cheer, and while there was certainly some discontent in the crowd, it was overwhelmed by the surge of hope in the others. He wondered if it was because of his prowess as a General, or if they enjoyed seeing the pacifist’s lover openly oppose her. Either way, they recognized that he was their best path to their goal.

He deactivated the blade and clipped it to his belt, allowing himself to be pulled into the crowd. 

There would be time for introductions later though.

“Where is my son?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few chapters of this written before I posted it but decided I didn't like them so this is being posted as it is written. If you have any ideas, feel free to share them! 
> 
> Thank you for the wonderful response! I honestly didn't think that many people would read this!


	3. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things that need to be said and some that don't.
> 
> Knowing the difference is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always struggle with writing Anakin as a character, because I don't know how culpable he is in his fall. There are so many factors. The Jedi Order's rigidity, Palpatine's manipulations, Padme's forgiveness, Obi-Wan's silence, his childhood enslavement...but as much as I can blame on circumstance there's probably some part of it that's just Anakin's arrogance and selfishness. 
> 
> How I feel about it changes from day to day, but I hope you enjoy my attempt at his perspective.

Korkie Kryze’s week wasn’t going that great. 

He’d been abducted by an aunt he didn’t know about because the person he thought was his aunt, who was actually his mother, lied to him about his father, who was actually a Jedi Master and Hero of the Republic. 

It was a lot to take in. The one good thing about this situation was that there wasn’t much else to do but think in the Death Watch camp.

He found it easy to think of Aunt Satine as his mother. He always had. Calling her his aunt was just a court formality, in case she got married and had an heir of her own someday.

But his father...his true father wasn’t some young warrior who fell at the very end of the civil war.

His true father was Obi-Wan Kenobi. High General of the Grand Army of the Republic. Jedi Master of the Jedi High Council. The Negotiator. The Jedi who protected the Duchess of Mandalore for a year, quelling what was left of her enemies and bringing them to an era of peace. 

As far as fathers went, Korkie couldn’t ask for a better one.

Everything he heard about Kenobi led him to believe he was a good man, but he was a Jedi. He didn’t have attachments. He couldn’t stay with his mother, so he couldn’t stay with him.

He knew that he would come rescue him though. That’s what his father did. He saved the day.

Stars, it would be amazing to have him as a real father. He could teach him everything. He could show him how to better defend himself. He could teach him more about diplomacy. With his tutelage, he could be the greatest Duke Mandalore had ever seen. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a man of many talents, if he could pass a few onto him he’d be better off.

But Kenobi was important to more people than just him. 

In a way, he understood why he couldn’t be there. His mother was busy enough looking after the Neutral Systems. He couldn’t imagine how time consuming it was to look after the Republic, even before there was a war. Everyone else needed him. It would be selfish to ask him to stay. 

He may want his father in his life, but he’d survive without him. There were people out there that wouldn’t if he took him away.

His mother put duty above family. His father put duty before love. He himself prepared to live a life in service to his people, doing what needed to be done rather than what he wanted to do. He got it. General Kenobi would rescue him, return him to Mandalore, and then leave. 

Unless...no, that was impossible.

He wasn’t Force-sensitive. There was no way his father could take him on as an apprentice. 

None of the Death Watch talked to him, not even his aunt, but he heard the alert. A star destroyer was in orbit. He mentally braced himself for an attack. A battle was an opportunity to escape. He doubted General Kenobi and the 212th were going to lose and Vizsla was vindictive. He wouldn’t kill him unless his father was in sight.

Yet no battle started. His guards were informed General Kenobi was with the Protectors. 

His father challenged Vizsla to a duel.

Korkie shifted in his restraints, hissing at the pain in his ankle. This changed things. His father wasn’t coming as a Jedi, he was coming as a Mandalorian. He was invoking the Code, meaning he was eligible to replace Vizsla as leader if he won. He fought back a smirk.

It was a perfect plan.

His mother had the loyalty of the New Mandalorians. His father would hold the reins of the Death Watch. As both of their heirs, it was a bloodless way to unite Mandalore.

It wouldn’t be easy. He knew it wouldn’t be. Each faction wanted different things, but there must be a way to balance their demands. Mandalore wasn’t always divided.

If anyone knew how to balance peace and violence, it was a Jedi-General. 

His guards picked him up, more gently than before. His father must have won. Lord Kenobi was now Mand’alor, the leader of their forces. As his son...well, he wasn’t really his heir. General Skywalker was his first foundling, and he was already an amazing warrior. After him would be Ahsoka, who was courageous and just. They were both unbelievable.

He was just…

He didn’t know what he was. He figured out the Prime Minister was corrupt, but he wasn’t strong enough to depose him alone. He wasn’t strong enough to stop his own abduction. He knew his duties, knew what was expected of him as the future Duke, but the future Mand’alor? 

Korkie wasn’t sure he could ever be ready for that.

This plan would never work because he wasn’t good enough. 

The crowd parted, but he kept his gaze on the ground. His father wouldn’t have time for him when he was just a High General and Jedi Councilor. Now he was responsible for an entire people on top of that. It would be less painful if they just pretended they weren’t related. He survived this long without a father and this way, Kenobi didn’t have to feel guilty.

“Let go of him,” A stern voice commanded.

Without their support he stumbled, but he refused to fall. He could tolerate the pain in his ankle for however long this conversation would last.

Except there was no fooling a Jedi. Boots came into his line of vision, and soon he was being lifted with ease into the arms of the taller man, “You’re injured,” His father said kindly, “I don’t suppose we have any medical supplies on hand?”

“Right away, my lord,” Someone went running.

The Jedi-General-Mand’alor easily carried him to a stack of nearby crates, setting him on one, “Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

He didn’t want to look at him, “My ankle, sir.”

“No need to call me sir,” A gloved hand tilted his head up to meet his gaze. It...it wasn’t the face he was expecting. All the holos of the Negotiator showed a man with half his expression hidden behind a beard. The man standing before him was clean-shaven, which made him look younger. Without the beard, he could better see the resemblance between the two of them.

“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” He introduced smoothly, as though there was anyone in the Galaxy that didn’t know his name and face.

“Korkie,” He responded politely, “Korkie Kryze.”

“I know your name,” His father smiled, “As my son.”

The adoption vow. He wasn’t expecting to hear it, and couldn’t stop his blush, “You...you don’t…”

He didn’t have to take responsibility. He didn’t have to be his father.

“Whatever you want from me, son, I will endeavor to provide,” He accepted the medical supplies and knelt to be at eye level with his bad ankle, “I told your mother that all she had to do was say the word, and I would leave the Jedi Order,” His hands were gentle as he removed his boot, then began wrapping the bandages, “I make you the same promise.”

It was too much. He stopped breathing as he considered the offer. One of the most powerful men in the galaxy was offering to give everything up for him. Him! A boy he didn’t even know!

As much as he wanted to...he couldn’t.

“The Republic needs you,” He gasped out, remembering to breathe.

“The Republic can make do without me,” His father replied.

“But would you be happy?” Korkie knew he wasn’t a General or a Jedi for power. The Jedi did what they did out of a boundless compassion for all sentient life. They helped wherever they saw help was needed. Could his father be happy knowing he could do more, be more, and remaining neutral? 

“With you and Satine?” His smile waned as he considered the question, “I believe I could be.”

There would be a lot of misery before he reached that point, if they ever reached it.

“No,” He shook his head, “I don’t want you to leave unless you want to.”

Finished with his task, the Jedi stood, “What do you want?” 

“To spend time with you,” He confessed. Jedi could tell when people were lying, couldn’t they? “But I know how important duty is, and the only way we could do both…”

“Is for you to become my apprentice,” His father finished, “Come with me into war.”

It sounded terrifying when put like that. His mother had made sure he knew nothing of war.

And yet...

“I’m not a Jedi. I don’t have the Force, but I’m willing to learn to be a Mando’ad,” He bowed his head, “If you’re willing to teach me.”

There was no other way for them to be completely happy. Korkie didn’t think he would ever be anything but a liability on a star destroyer, but if he lived his life staying safe, he would never have a place in his father’s dangerous life. They had to make the best of a bad situation, and this was the only solution that gave him a real father.

“Unless that isn’t possible,” He blabbered on, “I mean, I’m sure the Order has rules about who you can train and you have a lot of other responsibilities-”

“Korkie,” His father interrupted, “All I need is your mother’s permission to train you.”

He blinked, “It’s that simple?” 

“It can be,” He smiled softly, “She’s had you for fifteen years, I do believe I deserve a few.”

He returned the smile, “I believe you do.”

Someone gagged, and he barely contained a flinch as he realized his aunt was watching them, “As disgustingly sweet as this is, Lord Kenobi, we have important matters to discuss.”

His father leaned forward to press their foreheads together, then stepped back, pressing a button on his comm link, “Commander, I’m sending one of Rau’s men with my son. Make sure he’s comfortable. I’m beginning negotiations with the Death Watch now.”

“I could stay,” Korkie offered, eager to see the Negotiator in action.

The Jedi chuckled, “The first thing you’ll learn with the 212th is that it’s best to get your injuries seen by a medic as soon as possible.” He ruffled his hair, “There’s no hurry, son. I’ll join you soon.”

Soon was better than never. 

***********************************

Anakin was freaking out.

According to Waxer, he was what the Mandalorians called a foundling. By their customs, any child found by one of their own was legally theirs until returned to their people or raised to adulthood. Since the Mandalorians were also used to raising each other’s children, it was as good as being Obi-Wan’s biological son. All the Mandalorians were going to see him as such. 

He was Obi-Wan’s son. 

He was Obi-Wan’s son and Obi-Wan loved him enough that the Council was worried about it.

It was just...too much for him to handle right now. He felt his worldview change and he didn’t like what it revealed. How many times had he called Obi-Wan an emotionless bastard? How many times had he complained to Padme that his old Master would never understand their relationship? Force, he said that Obi-Wan hadn’t loved Master Siri.

Kriff, he was an asshole. As much as he wanted to blame Obi-Wan for not expressing his emotions, Anakin wasn’t a child anymore. He understood that just because people expressed their emotions differently didn’t make them less valid. 

How could he blame Obi-Wan for not coming to him when Anakin wasn’t sure he would have believed him? What would it feel like if he went to Obi-Wan about Padme and was met with disbelief because his old Master was convinced he didn’t know what love was?

It made him furious. At himself, at Obi-Wan, at the Jedi Order that told them not to talk about these things but to just release their feelings into the Force-

“Sir,” Rex’s voice cut through his stewing, “General Kenobi won.”

He didn’t expect anything less, “Korkie?”

“With Cody and Oddball,” The Captain reported, “He’s a little banged up, but nothing bacta won’t fix.”

“Good,” Kix would be ready for his...little brother? Whatever Korkie would be to him, “That’s...good.”

“You’re still thinking about the Council meeting, aren’t you?” Ahsoka accused.

Ha! He was well beyond the Council meeting. What was said there was only the pebble thrown into the water. The tidal wave was now crashing down on him

“It gave me a lot to think about,” He replied defensively, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Obi-Wan and I aren’t the best at communicating.”

“Some things don’t have to be said,” His Padawan shrugged.

“Some things very much need to be said,” He sat up straighter, “I wouldn’t have been such a little shit if he’d told me any of this earlier.”

“He loves you, Master,” Ahsoka frowned, “I’m sure he’s forgiven you for whatever you’re brooding about.”

“That’s not the point,” He snapped, “Obi-Wan loved Master Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon abandoned him in a warzone,” As though he didn’t have enough to be furious about, “He loved Master Siri, and I met her when she pretended to leave the Order to become a slaver.” Looking back, that was shitty, “He loves Satine, and she lied to him about their son.”

“I hate that he keeps getting hurt by those he loves, and I hate that I’m one of the people he loves that hurts him,” He got up and moved towards the viewport, “I hate that he just...takes it. He never stands up for himself. He never gets angry with me when I yell at him, he didn’t even flinch when I told him I wished he died instead of Qui-Gon…”

Force, how much did that one hurt? He idolized the Master that freed him from slavery, but beyond those few days he spent with him he actually didn’t know much about his own Grandmaster. Obi-Wan didn’t tell him anything about Qui-Gon. Neither did anyone else.

Was this why? Was there more than just Melida/Daan? Did Obi-Wan say nothing because there was nothing good to say? Did he just decide that he would could keep his hero, and let him shout lies? Qui-Gon came up a lot in their early arguments. He had this idea that Qui-Gon would have been the perfect Master…

Had he been wrong all this time? 

Or worse, did Obi-Wan think Qui-Gon was a good Master, and he’d just been a terrible Padawan?

“So do better,” The Togruta’s frown deepened.

He wanted to, but that was the problem with secrets. The longer he kept them, the more reasons he had to keep them. It would hurt Obi-Wan to reveal that he was married, that he thought about leaving the Order constantly so he didn’t have to hide his marriage. It would destroy him to learn what he did to the tusken raiders. 

Obi-Wan was extremely forgiving, but he was sure he drew the line at killing children. Especially when he felt more guilt about the pain this would cause Obi-Wan than the suffering he inflicted on that village.

“I’ll try,” He muttered weakly, unsure if he could be honest. They were the Team. Where Kenobi went, Skywalker followed, and vice versa. The Council worried that to lose one of them would be to lose both of them. It was probably for the best that he kept his secrets until he could be sure his reaction wouldn’t cost the Republic anything…

No. He couldn’t demand honesty from Obi-Wan without being honest himself. He couldn’t be that much of a hypocrite, not if he wanted things to get better.

When did his perspective get so kriffed up? When did he start doubting Obi-Wan? His old Master defied the Council to train him. He defended him from the Council's unfair scrutiny after every mission. He continued training him after he purposefully left Ferus behind on a mission, after his petty jealousy contributed to Darra’s death. 

Obi-Wan saw all his flaws and still managed to see his potential for good.

He was a fool to not trust him. 

The rest of his world was crumbling around him, but there were two certainties. Padme loved him and accepted every part of him. Obi-Wan loved him. He would be disappointed about his actions on Tatooine. He would be hurt and betrayed, but what was one more hurt?

Qui-Gon Jinn abandoned a child army to die and Obi-Wan still went back to him. 

If his old Master could forgive that...he could forgive him. There would be repercussions from the rest of the Council, but they were at war. Odds were the matter would be pushed aside until the war was over.

Then he would never hurt him again.

***********************************

Commander Cody assisted his General’s son into the medbay. He considered comming General Skywalker to keep the kid company, but decided against that. Skywalker was a mess. The Jedi Knight hadn’t taken the recent revelations well. He finally saw that his former Master wasn’t as untouchable as he thought, that General Kenobi could be hurt just like any other sentient.

Good for him. 

Cody thought it was about a decade late, but he kept his judgments to himself.

He figured out General Kenobi was a mass of trauma held together by sheer willpower about a month into their partnership. All the other Jedi his brothers served under had healthy coping mechanisms. His Jedi didn’t. His Jedi just took on more work, often going without sleep or food so he could give his full attention to every task.

The man’s extreme competency puzzled him for a few months, then his General got a concussion. He was so out of it that he called him Cerasi.

It took some effort, but he managed to piece together that his General was on Melida/Daan. It helped him understand why his Jedi was different from the others. None of the other Jedi were ever part of a prolonged war. His fought for eight months with a child army. His strategies, even for a shiny, were brilliant, and he could see how over time General Kenobi perfected them.

It was like the Force prepared him for this war. 

He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so he said nothing, but his understanding of the man grew from there.

His greatest fear used to be that his General wasn’t eating as a form of self-punishment. Melida/Daan helped him see that General Kenobi got used to surviving on less because others needed it more. He went without food so the weaker ones could regain their strength. 

He thought his lack of sleep meant he wasn’t coping, that nightmares were keeping him from resting, but there were dozens of accounts of the Jedi Hero of Melida/Daan going without sleep so the younger soldiers felt safe at night. 

He didn’t seek medical attention when injured because the supplies could be used for someone else and the young Jedi figured out how to siphon his pain into the Force.

General Kenobi learned at a young age to do without, and never unlearned it. Due to their lifestyle, it was likely useful to be able to go long hours without food or sleep. 

But it was going to get him killed if this war went on any longer. 

Cody subtly reminded his General that this was different. He wasn’t on his own in this war. He was being supported by the Republic, by the Jedi Order, by the vod’e. He never outright said anything, but he made sure the man overheard his review of their supplies. As long as he was aware they had plenty of food and medical equipment, he was more likely to use them.

They were still working on sleep.

He was going to make sure his General's son didn’t follow that path. 

“What’s going to happen to me now?” The kid asked once the medic’s fussing died down.

Kix glanced at him, so he moved to the chair next to his bed, “What did the General tell you?”

“He said that he could train me with my mother’s permission,” Korkie bit his lip, “But the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s impossible.”

“The General doesn’t make promises he can’t keep,” Kix assured the kid, his glance turning into a glare.

Right. They were all trying something called proper communication instead of observation and subtle action. His brothers were not happy that he kept what he found out about General Kenobi and Melida/Daan to himself.

“Your buir isn’t the first Jedi to have kids. High General Mundi is expecting his eighth soon,” Cody explained calmly. He’d never talked to a normal teenager before. Hell, he’d barely talked to anyone that wasn’t a Jedi or a brother, “The Order doesn’t allow Jedi to take their own children as Padawans, but you aren’t Force-sensitive. You won’t technically be a Padawan.”

“You will be trained in the ways of your people to be their leader,” He continued, “And that is something Jedi have done before, as long as they have the permission of the reigning leadership. In this instance, that is your mother,” He smiled tightly, “If she doesn’t object, General Kenobi can train you to be Mand’alor.

“But this hasn’t been done before,” Korkie shifted nervously.

“Just because something hasn’t been done before, doesn’t make it impossible,” The Commander hesitantly touched his leg, “Your buir taught me that.”

“And you’re...fine with this?” The kid asked, “I mean, I’m not a soldier or a warrior.”

“That’s good. I’m not planning to have a child soldier in my battalion,” Cody squeezed, gaining confidence with each word, “And if this plan is going to work, you shouldn’t be a traditional warrior either. We’re moving forward, not backwards. You’re going to be something else, someone better, and I look forward to helping you figure out what that is. As do my men.”

He couldn’t go back in time and erase Melida/Daan for his General. He couldn’t miraculously change him so that he accepted help, but children were the opportunity to do better. They were the future, a chance to not make the same mistakes again.

Korkie would have his support. The 212th would be there for him, as they were for their General. This boy would learn healthy coping mechanisms, to depend on others. He would understand that his worth wasn’t tied to what he could do but to the worth all sentient life held just by existing. He didn’t need to prove himself.

And maybe...maybe through his son, General Kenobi could learn the same lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that's liked and reviewed! It really motivates me to keep writing!


	4. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching an agreement with the Death Watch was easy. Duchess Satine? Not so much

“The terms are acceptable.”

Obi-Wan internally let out a sigh of relief. The negotiations went on longer than he expected, nearly two whole days, but they were over and he could live with the terms. A portion of the Death Watch would be joining the Protectors, helping guard Mandalore and the neutral systems who couldn’t rely on the GAR. Another group would be taking over training the troops on Kamino.

Those would be under Rau’s direct supervision. Once they demonstrated they understood military regulations they would be given more liberties with what they taught the troopers. They would also be given permission to give specialized training where they saw fit. What those subjects would be was up to them to decide.

The last portion would be under his direct control, working with him and the 212th. They didn’t want to act as soldiers in the war, but he had a feeling they weren’t going to stay on a star destroyer when he went into battle.

Otherwise, he intended to use them for missions the Jedi would be doing if they weren’t Generals. Not negotiations or diplomatic missions, but the more active missions. It would better their reputation to be seen hunting down criminals, and it made him feel better. The Jedi’s duties to the people wouldn't be quite as neglected while they fought this war.

In return, he agreed to send the Agricorps to Mandalore and Concord Dawn to begin revitalizing the planet. There were plenty of units in the service corps that had yet to be reassigned due to the ever changing boundaries of the war. It would take time to heal the war-torn worlds, but he had plenty of years in him before any Mandalorian would be able to best him in combat.

Unless he was betrayed.

Still, he was not only offering them a way to return to Mandalore, but to free the rest of their people from their domed cities. 

They would have to be extremely self-sabotaging to ruin this deal.

“And so Jaster Mereel returns from exile,” Bo-Katan sneered.

Rau tensed, “You will speak to Lord Kenobi with respect.”

He held up a hand for peace, “Mereel’s goal was honorable.”

It was also very similar to his own. They would be honorable mercenaries fighting for just causes. It was what he always imagined for the Jedi. No intermediaries, no Senate that granted them permission or forbade them from interfering. No one was there to control them. If people wanted their help, they simply had to come to him and he could give it.

“Honor got him killed,” She glared.

“Where has dishonor gotten you?” He challenged.

She held his gaze, “You aren’t ruthless enough for this life, Kenobi.”

He didn’t want to rehash the same arguments, so he took a step closer to her, “You have no idea how ruthless I can be,” He projected his anger at her, watching as she flinched, “You are free to challenge me whenever you want, Lady Kryze, but you’ll find I’m much harder to kill than Mereel.”

She averted her gaze, and he took it as the minor victory it was. He doubted she would submit to his rule for long, but she was smart. She knew he was her best option to usurp her sister, and she would wait until they were closer to their goal before killing him. Well, attempting to kill him. She was a great warrior but she couldn’t beat him on her own.

“Lord Kenobi,” Ursa Wren spoke, “What of Duchess Satine?”

“What of her?” He asked flippantly.

“You have sufficient leverage to placate the Republic, but she is not so easily cowed,” She shifted, glancing at Bo-Katan, “Her affection for you will not sway her.”

“Her Council listens to me,” Or they would. Given the strain neutrality was causing on Mandalore’s ability to trade, they would be eager to have the Agricorps make them more self-sufficient. They refused charity or reparations for Galidraan, but they would accept this, “She’ll bend to keep them from also supporting me.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Gar Saxon inquired, a sadistic glee radiating from him.

“Then she brings her own ruin upon her,” He prayed that she wouldn’t be too difficult. She could be angry with him all she wanted, but she had to see that this was what was best for all her people. 

If she didn’t…

He didn’t dare finish that thought. 

Saxon liked his answer. He grinned, “I can see why the Protectors like you so much. You’ve got the spirit of a Mando’ad.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, “Is that such a surprise?”

He shrugged, “I always heard you were the perfect Jedi.”

He couldn’t contain his snort, “Republic propaganda, I’m afraid. I managed to get myself kicked out of the Order three times when I was younger, but no one dares bring that up now.”

It was the truth, from a certain point of view. If it raised his credibility in the eyes of his new allies...what was the harm in a little misdirection? He wasn’t a good Jedi, not in the traditional sense. He was far too prone to attachments and far too good at violence. 

“If that’s all, we’ll need to start breaking down this camp immediately. I want all Mando’ade to report to their posts within the next ten-day. Transports will be available.” He placed his helmet back on, “Please don’t make me have to hunt you down. I have little patience for failure.”

With that, he went back to the ship Longshot brought down.

“Are we finally done here, sir?” The trooper asked hopefully.

They were both ready to return to their ship. Cody kept him updated about his son throughout the negotiations. It seemed the 212th took to him quickly, as eager to teach him as the boy was to learn. His Commander flagged some issues he felt they should address, and he wanted to settle them quickly. Korkie didn’t have anything to prove to him. 

“We’ve reached an agreement,” Obi-Wan took a seat in the co-pilot’s chair, “It should hold.”

“Aren’t you optimistic,” Bo-Katan drawled as she took the chair behind him.

“Are you going to be deliberately antagonistic in every conversation?” He asked, not bothering to face her. 

“You’ve proven you’re stronger than Vizsla. You haven’t proven you’ll be a better leader,” She said, “And I’m not wholly convinced this isn’t one of my sister’s plots.”

“I intend to call her as soon as I’m aboard,” The Mand’alor grimaced. That wasn’t going to be enjoyable, “Why not make it a family meeting?”

There was a pause as the engines started, before Bo-Katan laughed, “You’re serious?”

“If she kills me, I’d like there to be witnesses,” He muttered.

That made her laugh even harder, “Will all your children be present?”

Cody told him that Ahsoka and Korkie were getting along. His Grandpadawan was happy to have someone close to her age on the star destroyer. Anakin, in the contrary way of his, had yet to even introduce himself to the newest addition. Obi-Wan was concerned, but knowing Anakin he was still sulking about secrets.

Either that, or he was jealous of Korkie, which he would have to deal with before they had incidents like what happened with Ferus.

“Of course,” He smiled.

His children. All three of them. 

It was going to be some family meeting.

***********************************

Ahsoka wondered if anyone else in the Galaxy had a family like hers.

The talk was a disaster from the start. There were quick introductions, but as soon as the Duchess’ holoprojection was up she and Master Obi-Wan immediately started arguing in Mando’a. She didn’t speak the language yet, but she could tell from Rex’s expression that it wasn’t good. 

Cody interjected occasionally like the well-informed Marshall Commander he was. 

Bo-Katan’s comments seemed to encourage further arguing.

Anakin just looked as lost as she felt. He’d been oddly quiet since Master Obi-Wan became Mand’alor, but she’d been too busy with Korkie to press him on his silence.

Ahsoka leaned closer to the other teenager in the room, “Do something.”

Korkie was exactly what she imagined her grandmaster was like at his age. He was sweet, polite, intelligent, and completely selfless. He threw himself into his study of military codes, regulations, and strategies with a dedication she envied. He also had both battalions wrapped around his finger within a day just because he insisted on introducing himself to all of them.

In reality, Master Obi-Wan couldn’t have been like this. Melida/Daan and the resulting consequences would have jaded him. Fighting a war already forced her to grow up fast, she couldn’t imagine doing it without support. 

It made her want to protect Korkie from the horrible parts of this life, but she couldn’t.

It was his decision whether to uphold the pacifist ways of his mother or incorporate violence as an unfortunate necessity like his father. They all promised to help him balance it, but that meant seeing the full consequences of both sides. Maybe he’d retain some of his sweetness, his innocence, after he saw a real battle, but she doubted he would stay the same. 

“Can we please speak Basic?” Korkie asked, “For everyone’s sake?”

“This isn’t a family discussion,” Duchess Satine crossed her arms, “This is between Ben and I.”

“Who is Ben?” Anakin’s confused frown deepened.

“I’m Ben,” Master Obi-Wan sighed, “It’s a...nickname she gave me when we were on the run.”

“Can I call you Ben?” Bo-Katan inquired, “It’s a much more Mandalorian name.”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Satine scowled, “Do you even support Ben as Mand’alor?”

“I support him a hell of a lot more now that I know how much you hate it,” The younger sister grinned.

“She is here to ensure my ascendancy isn’t one of your plots,” Master Obi-Wan interjected before the Duchess could respond.

“Shall I call your brother to see that this isn’t some plot of the Jedi?” Satine hissed.

Her grandmaster’s annoyed expression hardened, and the Duchess winced as though she crossed a line. Cody leaned forward, his mouth open to ask, but Bo-Katan beat him to it, “You have a brother?”

“As much as you have a sister,” Master Obi-Wan answered tightly. He crossed his arms, “I didn’t bring Bo-Katan to hurt you. I didn’t kill Vizsla to hurt you. I was hurt you didn’t tell me about our son, and I’m more hurt you don’t trust me. I’m willing to put that aside so we can discuss what is best for Mandalore. Can you, Duchess?”

Satine’s eyes narrowed, “I can, General.”

Ahsoka winced at the use of titles, wanting to say something but unsure what could possibly defuse the situation. She kicked Korkie under the table. At least they had a physical reminder that at one point in time, they loved each other.

Even if that wasn’t true anymore.

The other teen straightened in his chair, “Mother, this may be the only way to unite Mandalore.”

“Inviting violence will destroy us,” The Duchess said stiffly.

“Is there no compromise?” Korkie pleaded. 

“They are called convictions because you don’t compromise on them,” Satine looked away, “Violence is a virus. I will not allow it to infect my people.”

Bo-Katan scoffed, “Your actions to prevent violence make it inevitable.”

“It is because of me our people survive,” The Duchess lifted her chin, “We have schools and hospitals. We no longer have to worry our children will die simply because they are not strong enough.”

“I’m not asking you to throw away your progress,” Master Obi-Wan shook his head, “I’m asking you to give your people a choice. They will not be forced to take up arms. I ask for tolerance for those that do,” He paused, “Your plan to wait for the Death Watch to die out didn’t work, Satine. The Old Ways weren’t just about destruction.”

“No, they were also about glory,” Satine tensed, “I would choose peace over power.”

“You would choose peace over purpose,” Her grandmaster corrected.

“What purpose is that? To fight others’ wars for them? To die on a meaningless battlefield?” The Duchess narrowed her eyes, “My people were not made to die. We have a greater purpose than that, surely,” She leaned back, “I know you’ve decided to die young in a blaze of glory, but I thought you had enough sense not to drag others down with you.”

Ahsoka flinched. What was their purpose? The Jedi were supposed to be peacekeepers, but all she’d learned so far was how to be a soldier. They were supposed to cherish all life, instead she gave orders knowing not all her men would come back. She accepted casualties as part of war, they all did. 

They were dying, but what was it all for? They weren’t any closer to ending the war. 

“I risk my life because I would rather die than do nothing,” Master Obi-Wan replied, “I know what you’ll say about neutrality. You think you’re keeping the door open for a diplomatic end to this war, but as I see it you stand by and watch as tragedies unfold across the Galaxy. In the battle between good and evil, to be neutral is to support evil.”

Ahsoka agreed with that too. She couldn’t do nothing when faced with people who needed help. It was unfortunate they were forced to go to war, but she’d rather have her hands tied with military regulations than with the restraints of neutrality.

Especially when one side was being led by a Sith Lord.

“Not all Separatists are evil,” Satine countered, “And the Republic is hardly the paragon of good.”

Another good point

Her grandmaster rolled his eyes, “Are you saying our atrocities are comparable?”

“No,” The Duchess gave them that much. The two stared at each other, then she sighed, “This could go terribly wrong, Ben. Can you blame me for not wanting to take that risk?”

“There is no reward without risk,” Master Obi-Wan said solemnly, “I promise your people will not become a weapon for the Republic, not like the Jedi or the vod’e have. If they choose to fight in a battle by my side, that is their choice, otherwise I have other uses for them that even you would agree are just.”

Satine arched an eyebrow, “Such as?”

The Jedi Master grimaced, “There are rumors that the Zygerrians are attempting to rebuild their empire.”

Bo-Katan and Satine both hissed. Ahsoka assumed they were bad. 

“Zygerrians?” Korkie wondered. 

“Slavers. They made breaking people an artform,” Bo-Katan scowled, “The Jedi destroyed them centuries ago, but they must see this war as an opportunity to rise again.”

“The Jedi are trapped in the bureaucracy and politics of the Republic,” Master Obi-Wan pushed his hair back, “We are stuck fighting this war, and while we fight it the people suffer. The Death Watch can be a force for good, they can be what the Jedi should be, but only if you allow them to.”

Ahsoka watched the Duchess carefully. It was hard to hear the Order’s failings laid out so plainly, but when she thought about what he said she couldn’t say he was wrong. They were too caught up in the war to do what they were supposed to be doing. People were suffering because of that, yet there were only so many Jedi. 

They couldn’t possibly do everything, and that meant prioritizing who needed help most. It meant some people wouldn't get help.

A Jedi couldn’t act without the Senate’s permission anymore. The Mandalorians however...they would be protected by the laws for bounty hunters and mercenaries. As long as they were hired for a job, they could basically do whatever they wanted. If Master Obi-Wan sent them after slavers and criminals...then they could bypass the Senate entirely.

“The Republic isn’t going to like this, Ben,” Satine said softly, “They’ll see your actions as an attempt to recreate the Mandalorian Empire.”

“They would prefer Mandalore remain weak and dependent,” Master Obi-Wan tilted his head, “But we must decide what is best for our people, regardless of what outsiders think.”

The Duchess considered him for a moment, then smiled, “I suppose there is a certain appeal in having my people one-up the Jedi, and I know the Agricorps can perform miracles…” She tapped her armrest, “I will, of course, have to publicly oppose this plan and denounce you.”

“I expected no less,” Her Grandmaster shrugged. 

“I trust you to know what you’re doing,” Her smile widened, “I see now this is something you must do.”

“Thank you, Satine,” Master Obi-Wan bowed his head.

“You will train another as your heir,” She continued, “I will not have Korkie feel obligated to live a life that does not suit him.”

“Mother!” Korkie protested.

“She’s right, son. I spent most of my formative years trying to be what my father wanted and it nearly killed me. I don’t want the same for you,” Her Grandmaster sighed, “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Boba Fett,” Bo-Katan answered, “If you’re trying to restore Death Watch’s honor…”

“I should do right by him,” Master Obi-Wan murmured.

“Master,” Anakin protested, “Boba Fett nearly killed me.”

“But he didn’t,” The Jedi Master looked at her, “Ahsoka, you were involved in his arrest. What do you think?”

She thought back to her confrontation with Aurra Singh. She remembered the boy, so angry and full of hurt, yet unable to pull the trigger when the time came. Master Plo tried to have him remanded into Jedi custody, “He isn’t beyond redemption,” She decided, “He’s just a kid who got caught up with the wrong people.”

Master Obi-Wan nodded, muttering almost inaudibly “And so Jaster Mereel returns from exile.”

Bo-Katan snorted. 

“Thank you for your time, Duchess.” The High General rose from his chair and bowed slightly.

“Let us hope it wasn’t wasted, Mand’alor.”

The call ended.

“So much for a united Mandalore,” Korkie muttered.

“It’s enough for now that we aren’t enemies,” Master Obi-Wan relaxed in his chair, “Is it enough for you, Lady Kryze?”

“You continue to surprise me, Lord Kenobi,” Bo-Katan smirked.

Ahsoka was a little surprised herself. None of their plans went this smoothly.

“Master,” Anakin stood, “Can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?”

She had a bad feeling about that.

***********************************

“I thought it would be clearer what I should do after seeing them argue,” Korkie rested his head on the table.

“I know,” Ahsoka agreed, “They both made good points.”

“But even they couldn’t compromise,” He complained, “A diarchy...that isn’t exactly sustainable.”

“It could be,” His newfound sister placed a hand on his shoulder, “I mean, Boba isn’t that bad and think of it this way, you won’t be the youngest if we have him around.”

He laughed weakly, “I always wanted a vod’ika.”

“C’mon, let’s go eat,” She tugged, “Food makes everything better.”

Korkie followed her to the mess. His father made it clear he had no expectations of him, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Did his parents not think he was strong enough to be a warrior? Were they so wary of failure they would train his replacement by his side? Or were there no expectations because he was truly free to choose his own future?

The Togruta punched his arm, “Stop worrying about it.”

“I’d be less worried if you were the next Mand’alor,” He nodded his thanks to Waxer as he slid a tray of food over. 

“I’m not sure they make helmets for montrals,” She mused, nudging Jesse, “Do you think we could modify one?”

“Sorta defeats the purpose of a helmet if you’ve got parts sticking out,” Hardcase commented.

“Could be interesting,” Fives grinned, “We could paint the whole thing to match your stripes, Commander!”

He laughed at the mental image. The troopers were endlessly enthusiastic. He supposed they found what joy they could in this war. They were the prime examples of making the best of a bad situation. They also spoke Mando’a, which helped the star destroyer feel a little more like home.

Boil rolled his eyes, “What about you, vod’ika? Thought about how you’ll decorate your armor?”

“I have to earn it first,” He reminded them, “It’ll be awhile before I beat any of you.”

“Not too long,” Waxer said as Ahsoka nudged him again, “Will yours be black and blue like the General’s?”

“That would be traditional,” Korkie pushed his food around, “Black for justice. Blue for reliability. Good attributes for a leader.”

“I didn’t know the colors had meaning,” His sister took a bite out of her slab of meat.

“We use them for battalion designations,” Chatterbox explained, “But they mean something to real Mandalorians.”

“You are real Mandalorians,” He protested.

That was the one good thing about having Boba Fett train with him. If he could manage to be Mand’alor and Duke, then he could easily make Boba the Governor of Concord Dawn. The clone troopers didn’t technically have rights, but if they made a clone a high ranking official on Mandalore? If he managed to connect to the young bounty hunter and gain a brother?

Then the Republic would be forced to give the rest of the clones rights or risk losing an entire army to Mandalore once this war was over. 

If they weren’t happy that they were unifying, they especially wouldn’t like them to suddenly number in the hundreds of thousands.

“I was thinking about maybe going with white as a base,” Korkie contemplated, “As a thanks to all of you. White is also the color of a new start.”

Ahsoka beamed, “A new start? I like it.”

He did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so difficult for me to write, and I'm still not sure I got everything how I want it to be, but I really just want to get back to Coruscant. 
> 
> I cherish everyone's comments. Thank you for your kindness!


	5. No More Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it felt like their lineage was cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story already has over 200 kudos! Thank you so much for all your support!

As soon as they were alone Anakin told him everything.

Obi-Wan didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression slowly closing off. 

When he was done, he waited, but nothing happened.

“Master…” He started, uncertain what would happen now.

“Give me your lightsaber.”

Anakin didn’t hesitate to hand it over.

“And your comms.”

He hesitated slightly this time before handing those over too.

“You will stay in your quarters until we reach Coruscant. I, or one of my men, will bring you food.”

“What are you going to tell Ahsoka?”

“The truth.”

He flinched, “The Council?”

“I’ve known about you and Padme from the start, Anakin. I almost asked Mace to go to Kamino because I knew leaving you two alone would lead to something like this. I didn’t think you were irresponsible enough to marry her...” His old Master trailed off, “But while I can ignore that, I cannot overlook your actions on Tatooine.”

Anakin bit back his protests. The tuskens weren’t considered sentient. It wasn’t a crime on Tatooine to kill them. They killed his mother. They killed twenty-six of the men who went to save her. They were monsters...but he knew better than to try to defend himself to Obi-Wan. 

At the end of the day, there was no justifying a massacre, even of animals.

He also didn’t want to end up saying that Obi-Wan didn’t understand. 

Obi-Wan understood what it was like to lose a parent. He lost Qui-Gon. He cut the Sith who killed him in half. He didn’t regret it either, just like he didn’t regret his actions. 

“Will I be kicked out of the Order?” He found himself asking.

“I don’t know,” His old Master admitted, “That decision won’t be mine.”

“Do you think I should be?” Anakin wished his friend wasn’t as good at shielding as he was. He wished he could sense more than a startling nothing from the other man.

Obi-Wan always had his back. He was always there to support him. 

The thought of being without him was terrifying.

“I think you need help,” Obi-Wan gently touched his shoulder, “I will recommend probation as you see a mind healer. I don’t know how much weight my opinion will have in the Council…

“Because you love me,” He leaned into the touch.

“I do love you,” It was said sadly, as though he wished he didn’t, “You are my brother, Anakin, my son. I wish I’d been able to help you.”

Anakin felt tears come to his eyes. He was hurting Obi-Wan. This was tearing him up inside. He could see the anguish in his eyes as he blamed himself for his Padawan’s mistakes. He fought the urge to latch onto him and beg for forgiveness. He longed for the power to go back in time and choose differently, choose better.

Another part, the part he was desperately trying to ignore, was happy to see his guilt. Maybe if his old Master just listened to him about his nightmares, he could have gone earlier to save his mother. He never would have had a reason to murder the tuskens.

“I never expected you to be the perfect Jedi,” The hand retracted as the man turned away, “I just wanted you to be happy.” 

What made him happy?

Padme made him happy. When he was with her all his problems slipped away. He wasn’t the Chosen One. He wasn’t a General. He could just be a regular person without the restrictions of the Jedi Code. He was Ani.

They weren’t as happy as they could be, but most of their problems came from having to hide their relationship.

He was happy with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. When the three of them were on missions together, no matter how chaotic, he was content with their banter and presence. There was a reason he didn’t leave the Order to be with Padme. He enjoyed what he did as a Jedi. He saved lives on every mission. He did good.

He could do good without the Order…but he wasn’t like Obi-Wan. He wasn’t a good leader outside of being a General. He didn’t inspire loyalty in whoever he talked to. Whatever he tried to do, he would do alone. He might be able to do some good, but it would never be like what he could accomplish as a Jedi.

He couldn’t be happy with just Padme or just the Jedi Order.

But he couldn’t have both. Not after what he did.

“How do you do it?” He asked before Obi-Wan could leave. Before his old Master could meditate on his confession and realize he shouldn’t offer him such compassion, “How did you give up love?”

“Give up love?” Obi-Wan echoed, “Anakin, I never gave up love.” He didn’t turn back around, just leaned on the doorway, “There’s a traditional wedding vow on Mandalore. ‘We are one when together, we are one when apart’. It means that love doesn’t diminish through distance, or time, or death. It is enough for me to know that I am loved.”

How was that enough? Didn’t he want to hold her in his arms at night? Didn’t he want to take every excuse to kiss her or be near her? Didn’t he need to call her just to hear her voice? Not for the first time, he wondered if they experienced love differently. He tried loving Padme and not doing anything about it.

That lasted about three days.

“That’s not enough for me,” Anakin grimaced.

“What is enough for you?” His old Master wondered, “If you go against your principles, if you knowingly commit crimes in the name of love, then what you’re feeling isn’t love. That’s attachment. It's possession.” He shook his head, “You killed them because they took something from you. I thought you were above seeing people as yours.”

With that, he was gone. 

He sat down heavily on his bed. 

Possessive? He wasn’t possessive.

Was he?

***********************************

Cody hadn’t seen his General since the ‘family meeting’.

He was worried. He thought General Kenobi would attempt to appear like a fully-functioning adult in front of his son. 

He keyed in his override code to the locked training room. This was bad. Normally, if something unbalanced his Jedi, he would meditate. It was rare for him to decide to go for physical exertion to clear his mind. He didn’t believe in letting his anger out that way. The only time he trained was to maintain his abilities or to teach General Skywalker and Commander Tano. 

The darksaber let out a lower pitched noise than his usual blade. The Jedi went through his usual steps, but there was something off about it. The angle was different, and though his General was wearing his helmet he could tell he was frustrated.

It was only natural. He’d fought with the same weapon for years. Any change was going to come with an adjustment period, Force or no.

Something told him that the frustration went deeper than that.

“Does this have anything to do with the secret brother you never told me about?” He asked.

Cody was almost certain it didn’t, but giving the Negotiator a broad question was just asking for a nonanswer. He got better results being wrong and specific. It was normally how he started any discussion of casualties with him. 

“Yes and no,” His General paused in his katas, “And I had two brothers technically.”

“Had?” He prompted.

He stopped completely, “I don’t like to talk about my lineage.”

“I don’t think you have a choice if it’s what brought you here,” Cody set down his helmet on one of the benches and moved onto the mat, “Sir, if anyone understands having asshole brothers, it’s me.”

“Obi-Wan,” His General replied, taking off his helmet as well, “If we’re going to talk about this I insist you call me Obi-Wan.”

It wasn’t the first time he was granted permission to use his first name.

“Obi-Wan,” He repeated, feeling like this was the first situation where he had to use it.

His General smiled tightly then tossed over his lightsaber. Cody adjusted it in his grip, then pressed the button to activate the blade. It wasn’t the first time he’d held this weapon. Hell, he stopped counting after the dozenth time it ended up clipped to his belt. He even knew how to use it a little. He would never use it on the battlefield, but in private?

He widened his stance and prepared to go through the katas with him. Skywalker and Tano weren’t always with them, and it was important for Obi-Wan to spar with somebody.

He lifted the humming blade, “Your lineage?”

His family, in other words, unless they didn’t deserve to be called that.

His General started the spar at half-speed, still testing out the darksaber, “You know Dooku is my Grandmaster,” He blocked the low swing easily, “He trained three Padawans. The first was Rael Averross. A decent Jedi, all things considered, who went on to train his own Padawan, Nim Pianna.” His voice was tense, as though he were trying to keep his emotions contained.

“I’ve never heard of a General Averross,” Cody commented lightly, “Or a General Pianna.”

Obi-Wan faltered, “When Nim was fourteen, a mission went wrong. The bounty hunters had nanotech that gave them the ability to control her body.” His next strike was harder, forcing him back a step, “He couldn’t stop her and he couldn’t leave her behind...so Master Rael killed her.”

Kriff. That was… “You must have been terrified for Ahsoka.”

It was too similar to the worms on Geonosis. 

His Jedi grimaced, “I don’t believe in luck, but misfortune seems to follow our lineage.”

Cody couldn’t agree more. He thought those worms were a once in a lifetime scenario.

“So Master Rael…” He trailed off. What would his General do if he had to kill Skywalker? What would Skywalker do if he had to kill Ahsoka? They always pulled off the impossible. He liked to think that they would find a way around it, but sometimes there was no escape. Some traps were too elaborate to get out of.

He wouldn’t be surprised if they couldn’t live with themselves for a decision like that, no matter how little blame was actually on them.

“He lost part of himself that day. I think he found a measure of peace raising the princess of Pijal to be the next Queen…” He sighed as he spun the blade in his hand, signaling a repeat of the kata, “But she didn’t end up being Queen for long. Her cousin overthrew her and instated a democracy. Master Rael is still there to make sure everything remains peaceful.”

So he wasn’t helping with the war. It sounded like he was a Jedi in name only. 

“And the second Padawan?” Cody asked. He didn’t need to hear more. He could look up Pijal’s status when this was done.

“My Master. Qui-Gon Jinn,” The spar continued, but it felt more like a dance. His motions were getting smoother, “But I’ll skip him for now. Dooku’s third Padawan was Komari Vosa. She was...aggressive. On Galidraan she killed twenty Mando’ade. She was dangerous, to the point where the Council refused to let her face her trials.”

“She didn’t like that decision, and joined a task force to stop the Bando Gora, a dangerous cult and criminal organization. The mission went terribly wrong. We thought she died with the others,” Obi-Wan was a half-second late to block his side attack, “But she was captured and tortured to insanity. She turned to the Dark Side and eventually rose to be one of their leaders.”

His Jedi jumped back, pausing for a moment, “I think Jango Fett killed her, actually. I’m not sure if there was a bounty on her head or he thought he could get revenge for Galidraan.”

Cody absorbed that. Another tragedy that didn’t happen to other Jedi, “So Dooku wasn’t the first in your lineage to fall?”

“Dooku wasn’t even the second,” His General scoffed, “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Qui-Gon is still considered the Maverick. He believed in following the will of the Force above the orders from the Senate or the Council. He was exceedingly compassionate, even for a Jedi, and he was always picking up strays on missions.”

“Doesn’t sound like the kind of man to leave a child in a warzone,” The Commander commented.

The Jedi rolled his eyes, “Qui-Gon had three Padawans.” So he was just going to ignore his comment, “The first is Feemor. Out of the three of us, he’s the most like Qui-Gon. He’s strongest in the Living Force,” He reengaged, “He mostly works with the Agricorps, guarding them from pirates and whatnot.”

“Not a bad man?” He couldn’t stop the way the statement lifted into a question.

“Hurt people hurt people,” Obi-Wan crossed their blades, “Qui-Gon’s second Padawan was Xanatos Du Crion. My Master found him when he was on a mission and convinced the Council to accept him even though he was too old. Xanatos was...arrogant, and with arrogance comes cruelty, but just as Dooku was blind to Vosa’s faults, Qui-Gon was blind to Xanatos’.”

“A civil war broke out on Xanatos’ homeworld, and they considered it a test of his attachment,” Cody jumped back to avoid another swipe, “He failed. The civil war took his sister’s life, and his father used his grief to manipulate him into leading his side of the war. Qui-Gon tried to bring him back, but was forced to kill the father when he threatened the life of another Padawan.”

The Commander hesitated to move within striking distance again. This was so much more than he could have imagined. He always saw the Jedi as a whole as serene, peaceful. In their history, the only conflict came from others. 

He didn’t expect such turbulence from within.

“He fell, and swore revenge on Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan paused as well. For a moment, they stared at each other, then he deactivated the darksaber, “It broke Qui-Gon’s trust in himself and the Force. He saw darkness everywhere, but he didn’t see the darkness growing within himself. He started taking riskier missions that took him further away from the Temple…”

Qui-Gon started falling. He wasn’t a bad man, neither was Feemor, but when they were hurting they didn’t notice the hurt they caused in others. 

His General took a deep breath, “That’s where I come in. The Council hoped I would save him from himself...and I did.”

He filled in the blanks for himself. Qui-Gon and Feemor saw Obi-Wan as another Xanatos. His Jedi spent years trying to prove he wasn’t like that. He was held to extremely high standards because anything less was fallible. He had no choice but to become as close to perfect as possible.

Even if it destroyed him.

“That...that’s pretty kriffed up, Obi-Wan,” Cody deactivated the lightsaber in his hands.

“I agree, which is why I don’t normally talk about these matters,” He looked at the ground, “It’s not the Padawan’s job to bear their Master’s emotional baggage.”

He stepped closer, gently placing his hand on his shoulder, “I’m not your Padawan.”

That earned him a sad chuckle, “No, you’re not, but this isn’t your job either.”

“It’s my privilege,” Cody slid the hand to the back of his neck, fiddling with the hair there as he would any of his brothers who were struggling, “What’s this really about, Obi-Wan?”

“I thought that if I didn’t tell Anakin and Ahsoka about our lineage, I would spare them from the unfair judgment of many in the Order,” He tensed, “They didn’t need to know that I’m a broken man from a broken lineage where everyone seems to fall or quit or die.” 

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same,” The Commander offered gently. He didn’t tell the shinies about some of the worser ends those that came before them suffered. 

“But those that ignore the past are doomed to repeat it,” Obi-Wan tried to turn away, so he brought his other hand up to stop him, “I thought I had learned, but Anakin…”

“What did Skywalker do?” He demanded firmly.

Skywalker was reckless, arrogant, emotional...he calmed himself. He’d managed to remain calm this far, but where it was easy not to react to ghosts from the past, it was much harder to stay calm when he could do something about Skywalker. The other General was dangerous. He did his best to make sure the 212th was never under his command alone.

He was a strong warrior, but the strength of one wouldn’t win this war. 

Blue eyes snapped up to meet his, and Cody realized his General was about to cry. That never happened. His Jedi’s eyes held all the sadness in the galaxy but they never spilt over, “He massacred a village for killing his mother. Every man, woman, and child...”

Cody didn’t know what to say, so he just pulled his friend in for a hug. Skywalker was flawed, but where his flaws made him dangerous, he firmly believed the other General was a good man. He had the 501st’s loyalty. Obi-Wan put more faith in Skywalker than the Knight deserved, but Skywalker had yet to disappoint.

Until now.

Skywalker never did anything by halves. Once again his former Master was left picking up his mess.

“It’s not your fault,” Cody decided to say, “Skywalker’s decisions are his.”

“But not his alone,” Obi-Wan said, his voice thick with guilt, “If I’d just let him go see his mother…”

“He might have killed them anyway as a preventative measure,” The Commander hugged him tighter.

“I just...I failed him,” His friend cried.

“Please don’t blame yourself, Obi-Wan,” He tried to project comfort, “They expected us to be the same. Us clones, I mean. We have the same genetics, the same training...the longnecks and the Cuy’val Dar controlled everything, but we all came out different,” The Jedi helped them see that better, “Those differences...they can lead to bad. Slick betrayed us.”

Just thinking about it brought back the stinging feeling of betrayal. One of his own brothers...

Obi-Wan stepped back to meet his gaze, likely sensing his guilt, “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Then what Skywalker did wasn’t yours,” He argued, “We did the best we could in shitty circumstances. I won’t say we did everything right, but at the end of the day it would have been enough for most people. Slick chose to betray us. Skywalker chose to kill those people. There’s only so much you can blame on circumstance, or yourself.”

They both should have noticed...but at the same time, they shouldn’t have to be suspicious of their own brothers. 

His General nodded, wiping at his eyes as he gathered himself, “Thank you, Cody. I...I needed that.”

The Commander nodded, “You also need to eat.”

Obi-Wan didn’t quite smile, but he didn’t look like he was drowning in his own guilt and despair anymore. Cody knew one conversation wasn’t going to fix everything, but it was enough to keep him afloat for now. 

He picked up his helmet and noticed that his comm was activated.

Someone was going to die.

***********************************

Ahsoka didn’t hear anything beyond Master Obi-Wan’s confession of Anakin’s crimes.

The men were upset with Commander Cody because he knew about Melida/Daan for months and didn’t say anything. Kix didn’t think it was good for anyone to keep such secrets, so when Cody left to go speak to Obi-Wan, some of the other men put their heads together to hack into his comm. 

No more secrets, they’d agreed.

She curled up tighter into a ball. She didn’t realize the truth could hurt so much. 

She’d been warned. On Mortis, her vision of her future self told her staying with Anakin was only going to lead her down a dark path. She looked up to her Master. She thought he was a great Jedi. His flaws made him unconventional, but she didn’t think there was anyone better suited to teach her. 

“Ahsoka,” Korkie hesitantly tried to reach her.

She could sense his concern for her and his father, but beneath that, she sensed his fear. She realized she was scared too. 

“Korkie,” She looked up at him. 

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” The other teen wondered.

Right. The past was the past. She wasn’t even in Anakin’s life when he made those decisions. Maybe she could have stopped him…

It wasn’t the Padawan’s responsibility to fix their Master. 

But if she could, shouldn’t she try? What would happen if they were separated, if she left him alone?

At the same time, she still wanted to be a Jedi. If he was kicked out of the Order, he would have Padme. If he was put on probation, he would have the Temple healers. If she stayed in the Temple with him...what would happen to the 501st? Without their General, would they be split up? Would they have a new General that didn’t fit with their style?

There were so many people depending on her and Anakin. 

Without Anakin, they were depending on her.

“No,” And that was Master Obi-Wan’s voice, no longer as emotional as they heard over the comm. This was her Grandmaster doing what he always did. He was putting their needs above his own, “This changes very little.”

She struggled to let go of her emotions into the Force and felt Master Obi-Wan’s assistance. They both knew they would forgive Anakin. They were too close to the situation to help him. He wasn’t Fallen, not now, but he wasn’t as rooted in the Light as he should be. They couldn’t make Anakin choices for him. They could only encourage him to do the right thing.

“I will personally select a new General for the 501st,” Her Grandmaster addressed the rest of the room, “As for your training, Ahsoka...I would understand if you wanted to continue under Master Plo.”

“I want to stay here,” It wasn’t like she wasn’t already sorta his Padawan, “With you, Master.”

With their little family, broken and cursed as it may be.

They would find a way forward together. 

No more secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter answered a few questions y'all had. I didn't write the conversation between Anakin and Obi-Wan about what happened on Tatooine because we already all know what happened. 
> 
> Planning for the next chapter to get them to Coruscant!


	6. Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were three things they needed to do, and three of them to get it done.
> 
> Divide and conquer and whatnot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It turned out significantly longer than the other chapters so I hope that makes up for the delay!

They were almost to Coruscant.

Korkie went through the workout his father and Commander Cody designed for him. Everything else was theory until he reached a certain level of physical ability. He didn’t mind theory, really. He memorized the laws and history of Mandalore by the time he was eleven. He could memorize military codes and strategies. 

Weapons and armor maintenance were a little more interesting, but he hadn’t earned either yet. A Mando’ad was supposed to be a weapon themself. Then they could add other weapons. 

It was tough, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Not yet.

There were three missions they needed to finish on Coruscant.

Half his focus was on doing the exercises correctly, the other half on his upcoming task. He was supposed to convince Boba Fett to come with them. There were too many eyes on them to just abduct the kid and none of them wanted to babysit if he was going to pull an escape every other day. He had to come willingly.

Korkie didn't have much time to sway him.

Ahsoka was bringing Anakin to the Jedi High Council. His father was facing the Senate’s summons. 

He would be doing this alone.

Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t what he expected. He didn’t know how to put it into words...but seeing him struggle with Anakin made him more real, more relatable. The Jedi weren’t infallible. It was comforting to know that very few in this family were perfect. Hell, from what his father said, the only one that came near perfect was Ahsoka.

Maybe it was an odd thing to draw comfort from. Anakin’s failure weighed heavily on his father’s mind as he went about his duties. There were times where he seemed to have accepted it, then Korkie would find him staring out a viewport, Anakin’s lightsaber in his hands. 

He was mourning for the son he thought he had. The son that may never have existed.

“You’re getting better,” His father startled him.

He almost tripped over himself, “I’m...still learning.”

“Aren’t we all?” His father smiled, “I came to tell you we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace soon. If there is anything about your mission we still need to discuss, now is the time.”

“Do you really think Boba will listen to me?” He asked.

“I’ve never met him,” Obi-Wan came closer, “But he’ll listen to you before he’ll listen to any Jedi or trooper.”

He was the only one with a chance. A Jedi killed Jango Fett. The troopers all wore the face of his dead father. Death Watch betrayed the True Mandalorians and set his father on the path of a bounty hunter. Korkie didn’t think they had anything in common, but everyone wanted a family, a home, a purpose. 

He could offer him that. 

There was always the chance that he wanted revenge more than that. Being in prison would only encourage his rage and violent urges. 

Korkie didn’t understand that. He could never imagine being so mad that he would harm innocents in his path of fury. It was why he knew his father didn’t think of him like Anakin. He internally grimaced. Anakin would have been able to convince Boba to join them. They could have connected over their shared darkness.

Darkness didn’t have to mean evil. Anger, pain, hate...those were all part of the spectrum of emotions and it was impossible to never feel them. They just weren’t supposed to let them control them. As angry as his enemies would make him feel in the future, he couldn’t let the emotion lead his actions.

His father didn’t expect him to let go of his emotions, not like a Jedi would, but he did expect a clear head when it mattered.

“Do you really think he’ll listen to me?” He repeated, stressing the words differently.

“Of course I do,” His father answered sincerely, “Otherwise I’d just have Waxer kidnap him and sit on him until he accepted his love.”

Korkie snorted, but relaxed. The Negotiator himself thought he could do this.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go to the Senate?” He asked, stretching out his muscles, “Then you could go with Ahsoka.”

“And make Boba feel as though he isn’t important?” The Jedi challenged.

Each of their tasks were equally important. Hence the reason they were each in charge of one. 

Divide and conquer and whatnot.

“I don’t think Ahsoka should be alone when the Council talks to Anakin,” He muttered.

“She needs to hear what happened from Anakin himself,” Obi-Wan sighed, “She’ll have Plo, who is much like an uncle to her.”

So he wasn’t happy about the division either.

“Your heart does you credit,” His father placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’s good to worry about those you care for, but don’t let that worry cloud your focus. You know what you need to do, so does Ahsoka. We’ll all meet afterwards for dinner and debrief.” He squeezed, “Trust her.”

Trust her to be okay. She was strong. She would be alright.

“Good luck with Mother,” He offered back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see her?” The Jedi asked.

He shook his head, “I’m not ready.”

They needed to project strength and that meant pretending to be united. All their arguing had to be over private comms, out of the public eye. He wasn’t sure he could smile on the steps of the Senate building as his mother fussed over him, not when he was still so angry with her for a lifetime of deception. He didn’t want to forgive her yet, so he was planning to avoid her.

“I understand,” His father let go just as his comm beeped, “You’ll do well, Korkie.”

“Enjoy the Senate,” He responded as his own comm beeped.

He hurried to a fresher to get ready. There would undoubtedly be reporters to take pictures of him at some point. He wasn’t dressed in his Academy uniform anymore. Instead, his father had taken a needle to some of his tunics and fashioned him an outfit that was almost traditional. It was also designed so he could fight in it.

Mando’ade chose their clothes for function over form.

Cody was waiting outside his door when he was done, “Ready, kid?”

“As ready as I’m going to be,” He smiled.

The shuttle took them straight to the prison, and the Commander introduced him to his brothers stationed on Coruscant. Commanders Thire and Fox.

“We have Boba in an interrogation room,” Fox explained as they walked, “Didn’t give him any details though.”

“So he’ll be in a fun mood,” Korkie muttered, absentmindedly adjusting his hair, “What are the odds he tries to kill me?”

“He won’t kill you,” Thire assured him, “Hurt you, definitely, but we can restrain him if it gets to that point.”

He considered the offer, “I’m hoping to keep this civil.”

“Truly the Negotiator’s son,” Fox smirked, “Has your father taught you about aggressive negotiations yet?”

“I’m not going to beat him to submission,” Korkie rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t met him,” Cody stopped in front of a door, “Last chance, kid. You want one of us in there with you?”

He thought about it, then shook his head, “No.”

He needed to do this to prove himself. It was going to take time for him to earn his armor and prove himself on an active mission or battlefield. This was a test of charisma, a way of seeing if he could convince his people that were lost they had a home. The populace of Mandalore liked him, but that wouldn’t be enough.

“Scream if you need us,” Thire tapped in the code to open the door.

Boba was smaller than he expected. He shouldn’t be that surprised. The kid was twelve and spent a year and a half living on the run as a bounty hunter. He could see how his facial features would grow into those of the troopers he met, but for now even his furious expression was kinda cute. Though maybe it was because he was also confused.

“Not what you were expecting?” He quipped, attempting to hide his nervousness.

“Who are you?” Boba demanded, his eyes narrowing as he tried to hide his confusion.

“I’m Korkie Kryze,” He introduced smoothly, mimicking his father’s tone instinctively.

“Kryze,” The kid repeated with a scowl, “I thought Mandalore didn’t acknowledge my existence.”

“The Duchess doesn’t,” Korkie smiled placidly, “The Mand’alor, however, wishes to help you.”

“I don’t want anyone’s help,” Boba spat.

“Not even if it gets you out of here?” He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. The kid couldn’t hide the flash of interest at the prospect of freedom, “Pre Vizsla’s dead. The new Mand’alor wants to restore the honor of the Death Watch. That means doing right by you and the rest of the Cuy’val Dar.”

Boba didn’t want their help, fine. He’d spent a year as a bounty hunter. If he preferred a business transaction, Korkie could make it one. Jango Fett’s son wasn’t an idiot. From his words, he would come to the conclusion that he was just a stepping stone to the rest of the Cuy’val Dar, and the easiest to approach as he was stuck in prison. 

A wrong conclusion, but one the kid could wrap his head around.

If they freed him, he would send the call out to the scattered warriors. They answered for Jango when it came to training an army. They would come again for his son.

“How do I know this Mand’alor is any more trustworthy than the last?” Boba crossed his arms.

“He’s Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Korkie decided to throw out there, now that he had his interest.

The kid’s expression softened in disbelief, “The Death Watch is willingly following a Jedi?” 

“He earned his place amongst the Protectors when he protected Duchess Kryze from insurgents. He spent a year on Mandalore, learning our ways, our language, earning the trust of our people,” He watched the disbelief slowly fade, “You’ve met Kenobi. You’ve seen him fight. He’s a great warrior.”

“He’s a great Jedi,” Boba sneered, “The Jedi killed my father.”

“A Jedi killed your father,” He corrected, “Besides, Kenobi isn’t that good a Jedi.”

Those brown eyes narrowed again, “What makes you say that?”

“He’s my father,” He grinned, letting him know that there was so much he was missing in prison.

Knowledge was its own form of power. 

The kid put the pieces together, then snorted, “Not that good at protection, is he?”

Korkie rolled his eyes, but decided to keep them on topic, “Our offer is genuine, Fett. Your freedom for your help uniting the Mando’ade.”

Boba really wasn’t that good at hiding his reactions. Ahsoka told him the kid had expressive eyes. Those told him everything he needed to know. The kid wanted to be free. He was interested in being a real Mando’ad, not just a bounty hunter. He wanted to be part of something, like he used to be on Kamino. 

“Fuck off,” The kid scowled, averting his gaze, “I’m no one’s pawn.”

But he also wanted to be independent. Too independent, and he was already far too jaded for his age.

No, that was wrong. An outright rejection didn’t fit what he’d observed. It also wasn’t the smart thing to do. Boba should accept the offer and attempt to escape. 

Unless…

“What a surprise,” He drawled, leaning further forward, “I didn’t expect Jango Fett’s son to be a coward.”

It didn’t surprise him that the kid had already slipped his cuffs. He expected the punch and rolled with it, getting to his feet fast enough to dodge the ensuing kick. Boba’s scowl deepened as he came closer, “I’m not a coward.”

“Looks like it to me,” He taunted, pulling one of the knives that Fives insisted he always carry on him.

They exchanged blows. As he anticipated, Boba managed to disarm him. He took the knife. It felt strange to have it held against his neck, but he put on a cocky smirk, “Do it.”

“You’re insane,” Boba hesitated.

Ah, so he was still hesitating.

“And you’re a liar,” Korkie pushed against the knife, feeling him back down, “You stay here, you might as well slit my throat. You stay here, you become a killer. Maybe a contracted one, but then you’ll kill for money,” Another step, forcing Boba to lower the knife, “And you’ll always be someone’s pawn.” He took the knife back, “You want to accept this, but you’re afraid.”

“You’re afraid if you call for the Cuy’val Dar, they won’t come,” He softened his tone, “You’re afraid you’ll never be your father,” Boba flinched at that, “I get it. Look what I’m trying to live up to, but at least I’m trying.” He finally stepped back, “If you come with me, you won’t be a pawn. You’ll be a prince. You’ll be better than your father, hell, better than your grandfather.”

He righted his chair and sat down, “The choice is yours, Fett.”

He turned away to give him some semblance of privacy. Boba was raised to be a bounty hunter. He obviously knew something of his heritage, but Jango didn’t seem to have any plans to return. After Galidraan, Korkie couldn’t blame him. Given Boba’s own history with betrayal...well, they weren’t bounty hunters. Jedi were at least known for their honor. 

Failing that, Korkie considered himself an honest person. Hopefully, the kid could sense that.

Boba picked up his chair, “What sort of shit does a prince do?”

Korkie let out an internal cheer. 

This might work.

***********************************

Ahsoka needed to hear it from Anakin to give up the last well of hope that he couldn’t have done it. 

She needed the closure.

She thought hearing Anakin talk about his crimes would make it...easier? Different? There was always the chance that Master Obi-Wan misunderstood something, or forgot a detail in his emotional state, but hearing her former Master talk about it...well, there wasn’t anything new. Kriff, since they weren’t reporting his marriage he was actually leaving details out.

He was a murderer. An unrepentant murderer who only stepped forward because he realized that he might be granted leniency from Master Obi-Wan. 

She stood behind her new Master’s empty chair, numbly listening as the present Council members debated what to do.

“Do you have an opinion, Padawan Tano?” Master Windu looked at her.

She took a moment to compose herself, “He hasn’t Fallen,” She said quietly, “He’s...unbalanced. Throwing him out of the Order will just deprive him of the help he needs.”

If they hadn’t practiced for hours on the Negotiator, she wouldn’t have been able to say that. She still wasn’t sure if he was capable of being helped. She didn’t want to give up on him...but the only apology he’d said was to her. While she’d been hurt by what he did, what he hid, she was hardly the one who deserved such an apology. 

It should make her angry, but she couldn’t muster the emotion.

She wished Master Obi-Wan was with her, or Korkie, or Rex. She didn’t realize how emotionally taxing this would be alone.

“Does he deserve help?” Master Mundi wondered, “He slaughtered a village. He should be imprisoned.”

“I don’t see how those are mutually exclusive,” Master Gallia leaned forward, “Imprisonment should include rehabilitation.”

Master Koth frowned, “The Jedi Order teaches that there is no redemption. Skywalker may not be a Sith, but the amount of darkness I sense in him…He’s no Jedi.”

“Not a Jedi, not a Sith,” Master Plo mused, “Perhaps he was not meant to be either.”

Ahsoka shuddered. The Chosen One and the Prophecy. Master Obi-Wan explained it to her the night before so she wouldn’t be surprised if it was brought up. There were many who thought that Anakin was born of the Force, that his unique power was granted to him so he could bring balance to the Force. Many, even on the Council, assumed that meant he would defeat the Sith.

Defeat the Sith and bring balance to the Force.

Nobody knew that for certain though. Balance could mean anything. It terrified Master Obi-Wan and Anakin that it could mean anything. 

Maybe this was what it meant.

“Not a duality,” Master Ti mused, “But a singularity.”

“Just the Force,” Master Fisto crossed his legs, leaning back, “An interesting concept, but we aren’t going to treat him differently just because of some prophecy, are we?”

“No,” Master Windu pulled out a datapad, “But there’s also Master Vos’ report to consider.”

So that’s who they sent to independently verify the situation. Master Obi-Wan told her to expect new information. She watched the Councilors pull up the report and drifted over to the Master of the Order to read over his shoulder. There were stills of what remained of the carnage, and his preliminary finding in the Force which screamed something terrible happened there.

The other locals thought the slaughtered village was haunted or cursed, so the crime scene was mostly intact. 

Master Vos reported finding tech that didn’t belong there. He asked around the local communities and found that it was rare for the tuskens to take hostages. They weren’t slavers, and most of the free people on Tatooine didn’t have anything of value they couldn’t steal in a raid. There was no point to hostages in a desert except to waste water.

Unless they knew Shmi Skywalker meant something to someone important.

“He was targeted,” Ahsoka realized.

Someone wanted Anakin to Fall.

“That doesn’t change what he did,” Master Windu sighed, “However, if the Sith would stoop so low before the war started, I can’t let him leave the Temple in his unbalanced state.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Master Rancisis shook his head, “Dooku has only ever shown interest in Kenobi. Why target Skywalker?”

Dooku wanted Master Obi-Wan? When did that happen?

“Dooku’s idea, this was not,” Master Yoda spoke calmly, “The mysterious Master, perhaps?”

That didn’t make her feel any better about the situation. Just another thing on the ever increasing pile of poodoo they had to deal with.

Now, they would deal with all of it without Anakin.

“Would Dooku have even known about Skywalker’s unusual circumstances?” Master Plo inquired suddenly, “Not many Jedi know he came from Tatooine, much less that he had an attachment to his mother.”

Master Poof scoffed, “Maybe one of Kenobi’s friends-”

“Obi-Wan’s friends can keep secrets better than anyone,” Master Fisto interrupted, “Which leaves the Council.”

“Or anyone outside the Order Skywalker trusts,” Master Ti pointed out, “Considering his reluctance to discuss his enslavement, I doubt there will be many.”

“Let’s not forget those who went with Master Jinn to free Skywalker,” Master Windu pinched the bridge of his nose, “Senator Amidala I trust to have kept this to herself, but Representative Binks?”

“This is the first tangible lead we’ve had on the Sith Master,” Master Gallia clenched a hand into a fist, “I say we keep Skywalker close. If our enemy believes the prophecy, they will have to work harder to sway him to the Dark Side.”

“And if this is all coincidence?” Master Koth asked.

“I’d rather err on the side of caution,” She met his gaze cooly, “We all know there is no such thing as coincidence when it comes to their lineage.”

The Force was strong with all of them. Wherever it led them meant something.

Ahsoka watched the other Masters come to a reluctant agreement. Temple probation as he saw a mind healer. Exactly what Master Obi-Wan hoped for. She projected the information across their training bond, feeling his relief at the verdict. 

Well, at least it was one thing dealt with.

“Ahsoka?” She blinked.

The session was over. Master Plo stood in front of her, his hand reaching out hesitantly, “Are you feeling well, young one?”

“It’s been a stressful week,” She admitted, bowing her head slightly.

“I can’t imagine,” Her Founder projected comfort, “Why don’t I help you move your possessions to Obi-Wan’s apartment?”

Right, she needed to do that. She nodded, following him silently. She didn’t want to talk about it, not with anyone that wasn’t family. She just had to hold on until the dinner and debrief, where they could all cry and eat junk food and watch shitty holodramas until they were assigned another mission.

“You did not have to stay and witness that,” Master Plo broke the silence as he helped place her stuff in a box. It wasn’t like she owned much, and most of her clothes were on the Negotiator.

“I did,” She replied, “Otherwise I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“It can be difficult to see a mentor’s flaws,” The Kel Dor paused in his actions.

She didn’t, “I never thought Anakin was perfect. I just thought he’d be...better.”

She was disappointed. 

But she felt reassured. The Order would watch over Anakin. They would get him the help he needed. He wouldn’t be depending on just her, Master Obi-Wan, and Padme. Well, just her most of the time since Anakin wouldn’t talk to Master Obi-Wan and Padme didn’t go with them on most missions.

She worried about Master Obi-Wan, but she wasn’t alone in that. Master Obi-Wan’s friends, who she introduced herself to over the last few days, were there for them. All they had to do was ask. Senator Organa, Bail, was surprisingly witty in private, and there was always some humor in his tone even when they were talking about politics. He was reliable.

All their friendships were public. She didn’t have to worry about her behavior around them. No rumors would fly because she dropped by his office for lunch. 

It was a burden she didn’t realize she was carrying until it was gone. 

Anakin taught her how to survive. He taught her how to save those around him.

But life was about so much more than survival. She wanted to do more, be more, than just a survivor. Anakin taught her how to disobey the Council, but Master Obi-Wan was showing her how to use the Council. Neither of them liked politics. The subtle manipulations made them both feel like sleemos, but if they could play the game and get something good done for the Republic?

Then it was a game worth playing.

***********************************

“General Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk to Padme. He just finished discussing strategy with Satine and Bail. All he wanted to do was play the Senate’s game, meet up with his children, and then get some well-deserved rest. He felt Bo-Katan and Gar shift to assess the Senator from Naboo, before looking to see what she meant to him.

“Senator Amidala,” He returned politely, not making a move to take off his helmet.

A Mando’ad removed their helmet in front of those they trusted. Or their enemies so they could look them in the eyes when they killed them, but that's beside the point.

He didn’t trust her anymore. 

“Can we speak privately?” Her gaze flickered to the other warriors in the hallway.

“I’m already late to speak to the Senate,” He brushed her off, “We can talk later.”

Preferably never. He wasn’t eager to hear her defense of her actions. With Anakin, he could see where he had lied to himself. In hindsight, he always recognized that his former Padawan was a little...flexible with his morals. There was always darkness within him, he just foolishly hoped he never used it. 

With Padme, he couldn’t begin to understand what she was thinking. Who married someone they’d only known for two weeks? After seeing that their worst led to the deaths of dozens of innocents? Certainly not the careful, compassionate young Queen he met over a decade ago, nor the righteous, cunning Senator she’d become when they met again. 

“So that’s Senator Amidala,” Bo-Katan commented in Mando’a, “How long do you want to avoid her?”

That was a silent offer for her to run interference indefinitely. He snorted, “She’ll make herself unavoidable before too long.”

Bo-Katan was warming up to him. He wouldn’t say they were friends yet, but she enjoyed her elevated position as his second-in-command of the Death Watch. She also seemed to realize that he might have more in common with her than she was comfortable with. 

They were both the violent younger siblings who watched their father figures get killed and then got disowned by their older siblings for not living up to their insane expectations.

“Still can’t believe she knew and married Skywalker,” Gar Saxon muttered.

Saxon was far less complicated than Bo-Katan. As long as he was out there fighting and winning, he didn’t really care who was directing him. He wanted power, but even he recognized that he wasn’t a strong leader in his own right.

He sighed, “Love makes fools of the best of us.”

“But not you,” Bo-Katan said. She meant it as a compliment. Mandalorians in general were a passionate people. Restraint was admired in leadership, as a brash leader ended up dead, no matter how powerful their passion. 

“I don’t have time for foolishness,” They finally reached the door to Mandalore’s Senate pod. 

He always wondered what speaking in front of the Senate would feel like. As a Jedi, he could only watch Senate meetings when he was invited. Given their lack of representation, and their inability to vote, they had little influence in the dome. Rather unfair, given the Senate’s influence on the Jedi Order. 

But he wasn’t here as a Jedi. 

He didn’t have to worry about censoring himself. He could be brutally honest because he wasn’t here as a servant of the Republic. He was here as a representative of his people. He was allowed to look them in the eyes and tell them to kriff off because they had no idea what Mandalore needed. 

He took a deep breath as he stepped to the rail. The room fell silent, and he navigated the pod closer to Chancellor Palpatine.

“Mand’alor Kenobi,” Mas Amedda introduced, as though there was a soul in the room unaware of the recent development, “Do you know why you’ve been summoned before the Senate?”

“No,” He answered, causing a ripple of murmurs through the other pods.

The Vice-Chancellor’s eyes narrowed, “This is no time to joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Obi-Wan heard Bo-Katan snort, “I haven’t broken any Republic law. I would know, I’ve enforced enough of them. As far as I can tell, this is an internal matter for Mandalore, and since I am unlikely to ally with the Separatists, it is of no interest to the Republic.” More murmurs, and he could feel the radically different reactions to his words. 

“You are a Jedi Councilor and High General of the Republic,” Palpatine commented, “Some see this as another power play by the Jedi Order.”

“Another?” He asked, genuinely curious.

His apparent ignorance about the Jedi’s crimes was met with shouts. He didn’t give them much credit, as those yelling were those he and Bail were relatively certain were playing both sides of this war. Yet, as they shouted how the Jedi started the war, how they created an army to cause chaos, used that chaos to gain power, he couldn’t help but laugh.

It was laugh or cry. It was ridiculous to him that the Jedi would ever lust for power, but these people thought it a reasonable concept. Enough to do them harm.

His laughter shut them up, and he took off his helmet to run a hand through his hair, “Saying the Jedi started the war is revisionist history at best. The decision to go to war was that of your Chancellor’s. The decision to have the Jedi act as Generals was your Chancellor’s. He had the ability to do both because of the emergency powers voted on by this very Senate.”

“As for some of your beliefs that the Jedi are using this war for personal gain...what, exactly, have we gained? We’re on the frontlines, dying in droves, and we still don’t even have a representative in the Senate. We lost our moral authority when we became Generals, and all our actions as Generals are directed by the Senate,” He shook his head.

“The Jedi believe that we lost the war when it started,” He continued, “Gaining from the war...well, it would be the Banking Clans being able to loan more than they have at an interest rate of their choosing. It would be the Techno Clans selling their technology to both sides. It would be your Chancellor using his emergency power to delay elections and stay in power.”

He spread his hands, staring around the shocked Senate, “But please, let’s discuss how my actions to unite a broken people are further proof of my corruption. I understand that you’re uncomfortable with Mandalore rising to a position of strength, but projecting your own failings on me is not the mature way to deal with your discomfort.”

Bo-Katan and Gar both were laughing quietly. 

“The Jedi did create the clone army,” Palpatine pointed out.

“One rogue member of the Jedi Order created the clone army,” He corrected, “If we are to be condemned for it, then I would like to see the same justice served to the Trade Federation for the actions of Nute Gunray,” He saw something dangerous flicker in the Chancellor’s eyes, and smirked, “Or can we both agree it’s ridiculous to hold an organization responsible for one member?”

“You see nothing wrong with your actions,” The old man narrowed his eyes, “You don’t feel as though you’ve taken advantage of a delicate situation for personal gain?”

“No more than you did to become Chancellor,” He met him evenly, refusing to give the ground he’d just earned, “Come now, if you really expected a Vote of No Confidence to help your people you wouldn’t have hidden behind your Queen to call for it. And, if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t it also the Naboo representative that gave you the power to stay in office indefinitely?”

It was a relief to have the suspicion off of him. Both Bail and Satine agreed that the best defense in this scenario was a good offense. Being defensive too often made the defendant look more guilty. He wasn’t really defending his actions this way, he was just pointing out the double standard to which he was being held. 

If they wanted to hold him accountable, they would have to hold themselves accountable. 

Which they weren’t going to do.

“Your words border on treason,” Palpatine warned.

“If I’ve lied, by all means, correct me,” He smirked, “Or is it treason now to speak the truth?”

“This session isn’t about me, Mand’alor,” He spat the title as though it were an insult.

If he were any other Jedi, maybe it would be.

“Isn’t it?” He laughed again, “Because I haven’t done anything wrong. The Council of Neutral Systems is happy to have a protective force that poses no threat of becoming an occupying one. Mandalore itself is happy to not be threatened with another civil war. Without either of their protests, there is no reason for me to be here except unfounded concerns of me having too much power.”

“Yet I have nowhere near the level of power you do, Chancellor, and the Senate only seems to be giving you more with every month this war continues,” Obi-Wan turned his pod away, “I refuse to be judged for what you get away with on a daily basis. I came here as a courtesy, not because I had to. I won’t come again until you have yourselves sorted.”

Arguments started again as soon as it became obvious he wasn’t continuing. He put his pod where it belonged, and walked off, ignoring the calls for him to stay where he was.

Ahsoka reached out to him tentatively through their bond, and he dropped his shields immediately. She informed him that the Council had come to a decision. Anakin was to be placed on probation, restricted to the Temple, for an indiscernible amount of time. Another item he no longer had to worry about.

“Should you be that smug?” Bo-Katan asked, “They could still arrest you for treason.”

“They’re about to lose one of their top Generals. They can’t afford to lose me as well,” The more he talked about it, the more real it felt. He wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t happen. He wouldn’t cover for Anakin as Padme had, even if he forgave him. It was oddly liberating to be encouraged to mourn instead of expected to move on. 

“Assassination then,” Satine’s younger sister amended.

“Possibly, but I’ve fought the best bounty hunter out there and sent him running,” He stepped out of the Senate building, pausing for a moment to admire the number of reporters recording the moment. He forgot Bail contacted the media to broadcast his speech. It sparked more interest than he expected, but he wasn’t sensing any disapproval.

He held up a hand at the flood of questions, “The people deserve an explanation.”

“More than the Senate?” A Twi’lek asked.

“I’ve never cared for the Senate’s opinion of me,” He smiled, resting his helmet against his hip, “The people however...all I’ve ever wanted was to help as many as I could. I became a Jedi to serve the galaxy. I didn’t fight the Senate’s ordinance to become a General because I couldn’t stand by as the Separatists harmed innocents in their invasions.”

“I became Mand’alor because I’ve seen how innocents continue to suffer anyway, not through any action of the Jedi but by their inaction. Pirates have grown bolder, criminal syndicates spread their poison, slavers take more in the chaos…” He closed his eyes for a moment, “Something needs to be done, but I couldn’t do it as a Jedi or a General, so I became something else.”

Bo-Katan removed her helmet and moved to his side, “We are here to help. Any planet, any system, any people. So long as your cause is just we will help you fight for it.”

There. Now the Senate couldn’t stop them.

From the burst of excitement in the crowd, the Senate would be facing a mob if they tried.

***********************************

Dooku wondered what Sidious was thinking. 

His Master always underestimated Kenobi and now he would regret doing so. Unintentionally, his Grandpadawan just threw a spanner in their plans. There was a small movement calling for Palpatine to step down and for elections to proceed as they should. With Bail Organa leading it, the movement would only grow.

Their plan wasn’t ready to come to fruition. Not with Kenobi scraping together a somewhat positive opinion of the Jedi.

Sidious thought he could outwit the Negotiator. He hoped to tear down the Jedi Master with words in the Senate chambers. Instead, people were looking into who was trying to rewrite history. The media would pick their hero over the Chancellor any day. The rumor that this war was an attempt by the Jedi to take over the Galaxy was looking more ridiculous with every passing hour.

Without that rumor, killing the Jedi would be seen as a slaughter instead of a righteous execution. If people didn't lose faith in the Jedi, then they would rise up to avenge them. They couldn't afford to turn the Jedi into martyrs if they intended to have a long-lasting Empire. 

It would be difficult to discredit Kenobi, given that the man very rarely did anything wrong. 

It would be even harder to kill him.

Their one advantage was that Kenobi never sought power. That advantage was now gone. 

Dooku leaned back in his chair. If he’d known leaking the information about Korkie’s true parentage would lead to this, he would have done it sooner. Really, it was ridiculous how no one else put the pieces together before him. Korkie looked exactly like his father had around that age, if just a shade lighter in his hair color.

Just another thing the Jedi were willfully blind to.

Being Mand’alor allowed Kenobi more distance from the Republic and Order he valued, perhaps enough to see that the Separatist cause was a necessary one. The Sith Lord was never strong with the Cosmic Force, but even he could sense that Kenobi’s actions were influencing the Galaxy at large. 

He would continue doing his part, but he intended to keep a close eye on Obi-Wan Kenobi.

If there was a chance he could make an apprentice out of him, he would take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *reads lovely comments*  
> Me: I should say something nice back!  
> Anxiety: Don't do it.  
> Me: Why not?  
> Anxiety: You'll sound annoying.


	7. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always another mission. Sometimes you're ready for it, sometimes you're not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to place this fic in Season 4 of The Clone Wars. I just love the story arcs in it, and it means I can be a little lazy with the plot of the story and focus on the characters.

Boba Fett considered stealing one of the clone’s weapons, but he knew this clone.

Commander Cody. Kote. His father’s glory. One of the best clones trained, and he probably got better with real battle experience. If he were a shiny, he might attempt to escape, but he wasn’t stupid enough to challenge the best of the CC class. He wasn’t eager to go back to prison either.

As annoying as Kryze was, he wasn’t wrong.

Boba wanted something like this. Being a bounty hunter was unsatisfying. He didn’t want to kill people who didn’t deserve to die. Maybe that was childish, but screw it he was young. The bounties he pursued deserved their fates, but there was always collateral. He wasn’t going to get good enough for zero collateral under bounty hunters that didn't care. 

No other bounty hunter would measure up to his father anyways. 

Jango Fett should have been Mand’alor. He was the best of the Mando’ade. With the traitors who forced him into exile now under new management, they weren’t a threat to him or the Cuy’val Dar. They could return home.

They could take back what was rightfully theirs. They didn’t have to wander anymore. They could be mercernaries with honor, instead of doing what they had to do to simply survive. 

If they listened to him. If they could trust Kenobi. If this all wasn’t another trap.

There were too many damned ifs.

The idiot told him a lot, but it was obvious he was new to this lifestyle. He was naive in a way Boba hadn’t been since his father died. He thought he had it all figured out, that uniting Mandalore would actually work. He believed that his father was strong enough to pull off the impossible.

And he would believe that until his father got into a fight he didn’t return from. 

“You’re quiet,” Kryze noted, turning to look at him.

“Maybe you talk too much,” He retorted.

The teenager sighed, “I just thought we should get to know each other.”

Boba grimaced. The idiot was the future Duke of Mandalore. If he managed to be a quarter of the warrior his father was, then there was a good chance he would be the next Mand’alor too. If the Cuy’val Dar came for him, Boba would get Concord Dawn and be its Governor. If he proved better, he would be Mand’alor.

If it somehow all went well, they would spend the rest of their lives answering to each other in some form.

That all depended on the nomadic warriors actually coming when he asked. If they didn’t...would Kenobi bother to keep him around? If he outlived his usefulness, what would happen to him?

“Co-rulers don’t have to be friends,” He crossed his arms, trying hard not to focus on the ifs. Jedi could sense fear, and he didn’t want to seem afraid. 

He watched as Cody pulled their speeder out of the lane and towards a diner. Dex’s diner which had a reputation for helping certain unsavory clientele, “Um...Commander? You sure this is where we’re meeting Kenobi?”

Kryze nodded, “It’s where Father said to meet.”

“Jedi aren’t welcome here,” Boba muttered, sullenly following the taller teen into the diner.

Apparently, Obi-Wan Kenobi was the exception to that rule. He wondered if that was true for everything. Dexter Jettster was easy to spot in his four-armed glory, and sitting across from him in the booth was the new Mand’alor. He looked better than the last two times he saw him. He wasn't a half-drowned wampa, nor was he strung up for execution after days of torture.

The Togruta who helped arrest him was sitting on the same side as Kenobi, and she spotted them first, “Korkie!” She waved, “I take it everything went well.”

“I got him here, didn’t I?” The idiot smiled, “How was the Council?”

Her smile waned, “Eh...Anakin got probation, which is the best we could hope for.”

Jettster pulled himself out of the booth to make room for them. He smiled politely at Kryze, but frowned at him. Boba scowled back, and the owner huffed, “Real piece of work you’re taking on there, Obi-Wan.”

Well sorry, he couldn’t be some Temple raised prodigy like the Togruta, or an academy raised child like Kryze. He grew up at a cloning facility where everyone was preparing for war. He knew how to be a soldier and how to be a bounty hunter.

A prince? Someone that people were going to expect next to Kenobi? 

That was going to take work, but he was willing to work. He wasn’t going to try and sabotage him or anything.

Trying to sabotage a Jedi got him put in prison in the first place. 

“All children are,” The Mand’alor said, ignoring the warning as he slid over a datachip, “Will you look into this?”

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up,” The Besalisk promised, “Send your sons by for a proper introduction later.”

Sons. Boba scowled fiercer. He would never be Kenobi’s son. He could accept foundling, or successor, fuck, even apprentice, but he would never look at any Jedi like a father. 

“What was that about?” Kryze wondered, taking the seat closer to the window.

“Someone ordered Anakin’s mother to be kidnapped,” Kenobi answered, “Likely with the intention of causing him to fall.”

Cody dragged a chair over to block his escape, “Dooku?”

“No,” The Togruta shook her head, “The Council believes Dooku is more interested in my Master here than Anakin.”

Boba put the pieces together silently. Skywalker wasn’t here because he’d been put on probation, meaning he’d done something bad. Something horrible, if it kept their hero Temple bound. Jedi could do horrible things. This war proved that all of them could. He was just a kid with a handful of bounty hunters and he took down a star destroyer to get the person who killed his father.

What would a Jedi do to get their mother’s killer?

Not that it really mattered. It was probably for the best that Skywalker wasn’t around. He nearly succeeded in killing him. 

“He is?” The idiot asked.

“Dooku has offered me the chance to become one of his apprentices multiple times,” Kenobi drummed his fingers against the table, “He sees me as his true descendent, his only grandson worth acknowledging,” The Mand’alor grimaced, “He doesn’t think very highly of Anakin.”

“So someone else ordered the hit,” Cody frowned, “Who knew about her outside the Order?”

“Senator Amidala and Representative Binks were with my Master when they freed him,” The Jedi Master paused, then shook his head, “I don’t want to think about it. The investigation is in Mace’s hands, but for now…”

“Don’t trust Naboo,” The Togruta finished, “As if we didn’t have enough betrayals.”

Boba fidgeted slightly. Betrayals just made it easier to reject new people, and he needed their acceptance if he wanted to get anywhere in life that wasn’t a contract killer, “What does this have to do with me?”

Kenobi’s melancholic look was replaced with a wry look of amusement, “Nothing.” He folded his hands on the table, “What do you want to talk about, Boba?”

That threw him for a loop. Kenobi was infuriatingly polite. He remembered their first meeting on Kamino. He scowled, “Are you going to let me be Mand’alor?”

He was a better fighter than Dorkie Kryze. With the same training, he could maintain that edge over the older boy, but all that was meaningless if he was just there to get his father’s followers. It didn’t really change his choice. Governor of Concord Dawn was still a shitload better than a bounty hunter, but he wanted to know what he could strive for.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.

“Let you be Mand’alor,” Kenobi echoed, “You do understand it’s not my choice.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Isn’t it?”

“Not really.” He slowly drew the darksaber from his belt, setting on the table between them, “How much do you know about lightsabers?”

Boba scowled, “Do I look like a Jedi?”

The Mand’alor chuckled, “No, you don’t.” He pushed it towards him, and he picked it up, “The first step to creating a lightsaber is to find a kyber crystal. In the Jedi tradition, the crystal forces a Youngling to prove themself, and that holds true for the crystal within the darksaber. It chooses its wielder.”

The former bounty hunter’s scowl softened, “Anyone can use it though.”

“But not everyone can use it to its full capabilities,” Kenobi replied, “Go ahead. Ignite it.”

He angled it away from them, then pressed the button. It felt wrong, and he instantly turned it off, “Should it be that heavy?”

“Heavy is a good word for it,” The Jedi smiled slightly, “If it feels heavy, then your energy isn’t connecting to the kyber crystal’s.” He paused, “In everyday terms, the darksaber doesn’t like you. Maybe one day it will, but there’s nothing I can do to influence it. If and when it decides one of you is worthy of the blade, and the title Mand’alor, you’ll know.”

“So Jedi bullshit is going to decide which of us is Mand’alor,” Boba muttered, handing it back.

“The darksaber was built by a Jedi,” The Mand’alor replied.

They were interrupted by Jettster setting food down in front of them and reprimanding Kenobi about weapons in his diner. He let the conversation drop, uncertain if he preferred his future in the hands of a Jedi or a special rock. He pushed those thoughts aside and enjoyed his first meal since he got out of prison. 

The Togruta introduced herself as Ahsoka Tano, Kenobi’s current apprentice. She didn’t bring up his arrest, which was a plus in her favor. However, she was just as friendly as Kryze, which immediately annoyed him. 

He wanted something to do, but they were just talking. He ate his food and thought back to the downtime between missions with the other bounty hunters. He spent most of it training since no bar would let him in and he avoided the others when they were drunk. He didn’t exactly spend time on the holonet watching irrelevant holodramas. Nor did he have any hobbies.

People weren’t friendly in prison.

Boba wasn’t suited for socialization with people around his age. No one lived a life like his.

“It gets easier,” Cody muttered to him.

He covered his mouth, “What does?” 

“Dealing with natborns,” The clone accepted the tray of dessert and passed them around.

He drank his milkshake angrily. He didn’t need the reminder that his upbringing on Kamino made him more like them than regular people. He hated that those few words made him more comfortable anyways. He hated a lot about this situation. 

Anything was better than prison though, so he would adapt.

Eventually. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Tano asked.

He looked down, “Do I have to talk?”

She shrugged, “Not really, but if we’re all going to be living and training together, we might as well be friends.”

He didn’t want friends. He didn’t need friends, “I’m just here to uphold my end of the deal.”

Strictly business. 

“Boba,” Kenobi started, and his head snapped up to watch his expression. Was he supposed to pretend to be happy about being here? “What would you say is a Jedi’s greatest weakness?”

Why did he ask weird questions? 

He didn’t want to sound stupid, so he thought back to what his father taught him, “Arrogance.”

“How so?” The Mand’alor pressed.

“Jedi think they’re the best fighters because of their magic. They tend to underestimate their opponents,” He guessed. At the flicker of curiosity at his answer he continued, “Is that wrong?”

“No, but I would say that arrogance often leads to us fighting alone,” Kenobi said, “It’s very rare to see Jedi fight in anything more than a pair.” His eyes stayed locked with his, “Now what would you say is the Mando’ade’s strength?”

Boba could see where this was going, “Unity. Mando’ade don’t fight alone.”

That’s why his father didn’t consider himself one after Galidraan. 

“We don’t have to be the ones guarding your back,” The Jedi smiled, “If you want someone else to mentor you, feel free to find a person you trust. I don’t want this to be another prison for you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“He’s scared the Cuy’val Dar won’t come when he calls,” Dorkie replied for him.

Understanding filled the older man’s face, “I won’t send you back to prison if they don’t come, Boba. Trust is earned, and I haven’t done much to earn theirs yet, nor yours.” He stood, pulling credit chips out of his pocket, “When a Jedi takes on a Padawan, we promise to protect and guide them. I promise I will do my best to keep you from harm, and help you achieve your full potential.”

He couldn’t look at him anymore, so he bowed his head again, “Everyone says you’re a man of your word, Kenobi. I hope that’s true.”

He really did.

He could test his sincerity later. Right now, he just needed to figure out this group’s dynamic.

***********************************

“I feel like we’re outnumbered,” Cody said, his voice barely above a whisper.

They were all in the rec room on the Negotiator. Boba let the other kids drag him into a marathon of their favorite show. Ahsoka was the first to fall asleep, using Obi-Wan’s lap as a pillow. Korkie drifted off soon after, his head on his General’s shoulder. By then, the newest kid was enraptured in the holodrama, but even he curled into a ball and passed out in his seat.

So far, so good. It wouldn’t last, but he could pretend it would.

His General was reviewing something on his datapad, but he smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. For us to be outnumbered they must be united.”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s one way to look at it.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, then used the Force to adjust the blanket around Boba, “We talked about me taking on a Padawan before, but three children is a little more than either of us expected. Is there anything we need to discuss?”

Cody leaned back in his seat, “I have a pretty good idea of what I’m supposed to be doing.”

His General was their guardian. He was Ahsoka’s Master, Korkie’s father, and Boba’s mentor. Each kid was going to need him for different things, different reasons. Ahsoka would be looking to him as an example of what a Jedi should be. Korkie would see the Negotiator he could be. Boba would strive to become a warrior on par with him.

Being his General’s Commander meant being by his side for all of it. There wasn’t really a question of if he would be part of these kid’s lives. He undoubtedly would be another adult influence, and he was willing to take on some of the burden of teaching them. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but no amount of training on Kamino could prepare him for everything.

Especially when it came to his Jedi.

“How are you feeling about this?” He gestured at the sleeping teens, “How many Padawans did you want?”

Obi-Wan’s smile vanished, “Truthfully...none.”

“Because your Master was a sleemo?” Cody guessed.

That got him an eye roll, “I worried that I wasn’t good enough to be a Knight, much less lead another to Knighthood...but I didn’t really have a choice with Anakin. It was my Master’s dying wish that I train him.”

The Commander froze. Of course it was, “You didn’t want to?”

“That’s complicated. I owed it to Qui-Gon,” His Jedi brought his free hand up to rub at his forehead, “And somewhere along the way duty became love.”

He could understand. After all, that’s how their relationship started. He was assigned to General Kenobi. He made sure he ate and slept because keeping him in his best condition was the best way to ensure the most troopers possible survived when they went into battle. It didn’t take years for that to change though.

Really, it only took a few months before duty became desire. He didn’t do his job because he was ordered to. He wasn’t watching Kenobi’s back because keeping the Jedi alive was the best way to keep himself alive and with his legion. He was going above and beyond the line of duty because he cared about the man, and he knew that his General cared for all of them.

“Then, of course, this war started,” His expression darkened further, “You know I barely have the time to take care of myself, much less have dependents. I only considered taking a Padawan because of how few Masters there are. I never considered any other reason.”

“Definitely not this reason,” Cody muttered. Taking on a Padawan should be a joyous occasion. He remembered how much the 501st enjoyed the first few weeks of having Ahsoka. It shouldn’t be tainted with betrayal.

Obi-Wan sighed, “I am going to do my best to avoid letting the circumstances affect my actions, but I want you to watch me.”

“Watch you?” He echoed, dread stirring in his gut.

“Qui-Gon didn’t notice he was hurting me,” Ahsoka shifted on his lap, and his Jedi paused to soothe her, probably using the Force to lead her to a deeper sleep, “He thought he was right to treat me as he did because he was ensuring I wouldn’t be another Xanatos. I still don’t fully understand where I went wrong with Anakin...I don’t want any of them to suffer.”

As though this admission wasn't enough to prove he wouldn't harm them.

“You didn’t do wrong by Skywalker,” Cody hastily corrected, “He failed you.”

His friend managed a small smile, “Do I have to make it an order?”

“I’ll tell you if you’re doing anything wrong,” He promised, “So long as you remember that none of these kids are remotely like Skywalker.”

Maybe Ahsoka shared his reckless streak, but she didn’t have an ounce of his selfishness. Boba had his rage and desire for vengeance, but him being here and not causing problems yet was a sign that his sense of duty could temper that. He already showed he hesitated to harm innocents when emotional and he was the actual child out of the two of them.

Korkie couldn’t be more unlike Skywalker if he tried. 

Obi-Wan nodded, and settled back against the couch, “You never did like Anakin.”

“I didn’t like his disregard for you,” Cody shrugged. Skywalker didn’t listen, not to orders, nor to advice. He seemed to believe that because he was powerful, he was also right. He thought that because he alone could pull off his stunts, that those stunts were an acceptable benchmark for all his plans, “Each of these kids wants to be here because of you.”

His friend yawned, “Wonder what they see in me.”

The best of them all, even if he would never see that himself.

He tried to get comfortable in his own seat, “Get some sleep, General. Our breaks never last long.”

Today was a good day.

Of course, there was a mission waiting for Obi-Wan as soon as they woke up.

King Yos Kolina of Mon Cala was assassinated. Prince Lee-Char’s rule was being contested by the Quarren Isolation League, who thought that he was too young to rule. Likely that was just a ruse so that they could assume power. The Quarren, and their Chieftain Nossor Ri, had already requested the presence of a Separatist, Commander Riff Tamson.

“Can we come with you?” Korkie asked.

Obi-Wan shared a look with him, before shaking his head, “Neither of you are trained for SCUBA operations-”

“Are you?” Boba interrupted. 

“Yes,” His General raised both eyebrows, “Perks of having a Mon Calamari as one of my closest friends.”

The youngest frowned, then looked at Ahsoka, “Are you?”

She winced, “Ah...kinda?”

Boba smirked in triumph. 

“We’re just overseeing negotiations, right?” Korkie leaned forward.

“If the Quarren have already reached out to the Separatists I doubt there will be much negotiation,” Obi-Wan brought a hand up to his chin, “We’re looking at a civil war.”

“More reason for us to come,” Boba crossed his arms, “You said not to trust Naboo.”

Cody didn’t want to believe Senator Amidala was a traitor, but she obviously wasn’t who they thought she was if she married Skywalker while knowing about his crimes. It explained her sudden appearance when they were pursuing the Malevolence. Her being captured gave the cyborg the time to escape. She also oversaw the prisoner exchange that freed him a second time.

There were a lot of holes in that theory, but enough remained intact for him to be suspicious. 

Representative Binks continued to survive where the trained and intelligent didn’t. Either he was the luckiest bastard in the galaxy, or there was more to him than he showed.

He didn’t believe in luck.

Chancellor Palpatine was definitely power-hungry and conniving, but there were plenty of politicians like that. There weren’t any definite connections between him and the Sith. There was just his suspicious connection to Skywalker, but again, most politicians would leap on the chance to have a powerful Jedi in their pocket. 

There was evil and then there was treason. 

Obi-Wan glanced at him, and Cody shrugged, “Kid's got a point. Besides, worse comes to worst, you don’t have to worry about the prince’s protection detail.”

His General sighed deeply, “Fine,” The kids all perked up, “Boba, you and Ahsoka will rendezvous with Kit. You will be acting as backup. Korkie, you will come with me. Prince Lee-Char will need a friend.”

“What?” Ahsoka grinned, “I’m not friendly enough?”

“I meant someone who is objectively neutral,” Obi-Wan leaned back, “In an emergency, you three will get the prince somewhere safe. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Even the slightest mishap underwater can lead to death.”

Not exactly how either of them planned to test the kids, but there were no safe missions that weren’t an insult to their skills.

“Should be fun?” Korkie managed a nervous smile.

Cody shook his head, rising from the table, “Monnk’s good at what he does. So’s General Fisto. And from what I’ve heard about Mon Cala, their people won’t react well to whatever treachery the Seppies have in mind here.”

He locked eyes with Obi-Wan, who nodded, and he went to inform the men of what was happening.

They still needed to talk about the 501st’s new General. They both expected one of Obi-Wan’s friends to step up for the role. Quinlan Vos, while not ideal, could easily match the insanity of the 501st if he was willing to step out of the Shadows. Garen Muln already had experience in a military leadership position, but a sky corps was different from a battalion. 

The Council had other ideas. He wasn’t sure if who they chose was a punishment for Obi-Wan or just a reminder that he didn’t have complete control of the GAR.

There wasn't much of a difference in the end, but he’d wait for Rex’s report before making his final judgment.

***********************************

Padme watched as Obi-Wan taught his son to fire a blaster.

Korkie was doing well for a kid raised by a pacifist. He listened to his father, remaining in the proper stance and taking the time to line the target up with the sights before firing. He no longer seemed surprised by the pressure it took to pull the trigger, nor was the kickback forcing him to readjust his hold on the weapon after every shot.

She kept watching them, waiting for a moment where she could interrupt. Obi-Wan had to have sensed her by now, but he deliberately ignored all her private comms, why wouldn’t he ignore her physically? 

He was so gentle with Korkie. He met his frustration with infinite patience. Every declaration of ineptitude was met with words of encouragement. Whenever the Jedi took the blaster to show him, he explained his thoughts and actions without condescension.

This was how Obi-Wan taught. 

And it couldn’t be more different from what Ani described. Whenever he talked about his apprenticeship, it was with frustration. He spoke as though Obi-Wan was constantly holding him back, or being overly critical. He made his Master out to be a perfectionist who was never satisfied with anything.

Korkie finally noticed her, lowering the blaster to his side, “Senator Amidala,” He said, his voice formal and cold, “Is there something we can do for you?”

She stepped into the room, “I wanted to introduce myself.” She held out her hand, “Padme Amidala. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Korkie Kryze.” He shook her hand, but quickly moved away, “I wish I could say the same.”

“Have I done something to offend you?” She wondered.

“Anakin told us what he did on Tatooine,” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, “You do know that what you did counts as accessory after the fact for murder, don’t you?”

“He was grieving the death of his mother,” She frowned, “He needed compassion, understanding, not a jail cell.”

The Jedi stared at her, then shook his head, “Is he in a jail cell now?”

“No,” Ahsoka told her that Ani was on probation as he saw a Temple healer. Technically, he was just restricted to Coruscant, though leaving the Temple for any reason would be considered suspect. He was treading on thin ice, so he wouldn’t risk it.

“Do you have such a poor opinion of the Jedi to think us heartless?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, “Do you believe we have never experienced loss or love?”

“No,” She stepped closer, reaching out. 

He turned away from her, “You kept his secrets because you were protecting him. From me, from the Jedi, from justice. You wouldn’t have done that unless you thought us capable of causing harm.”

“It’s not like that,” Padme protested.

“Isn’t it?” Korkie wondered, “You just said he needed compassion and understanding. By not telling the Jedi of his actions, you imply they possess neither.” He glared at her, “Actions speak louder than words, Senator.”

He had Satine’s look of righteous fury and Obi-Wan’s hurting eyes. It was a devastating combination. Her breath hitched as she inhaled. That wasn’t what she meant to say. She didn’t agree with everything the Jedi Order taught, but she didn’t think they were evil. She didn’t believe they were apathetic or incapable of relating to regular people.

Yet that’s what she said when she kept Anakin’s secret. 

She couldn’t undo what she did. 

“Why did you protect him?” Obi-Wan asked.

“There’s good in him,” She answered, “You’ve seen it. There’s more to him than his anger. He isn’t beyond redemption, and he could never redeem himself from prison.”

Or probation, for that matter.

“His anger makes him dangerous,” The Jedi Master still wouldn’t look at her.

“Our anger makes us human,” She argued, “You can’t just expect him to let it go.”

He whirled around, “I expected him to control it. If he doesn’t...what happened on Tatooine will happen again.”

Will, not might. 

“It won’t,” She said defiantly.

“Are you certain about that?” Obi-Wan challenged, “I deluded myself for years that Anakin wasn’t capable of terrible things, but now that I’ve known he crossed the line, I can see all the times that he nearly crossed it again.” His expression softened, “It doesn’t mean you love him any less if you acknowledge his faults.”

“He isn’t dangerous,” She insisted stubbornly.

“Then you’re more of a fool than I thought,” He shook his head again.

“Father,” Korkie spoke again, “We missed lunch, didn’t we?”

Obi-Wan looked at his kid, “I suppose we got caught up in training.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Senator,” Korkie bowed slightly, then walked out.

“Is it foolish to see the best in someone you love?” She asked as Obi-Wan started to follow him.

“When it leads to you covering for murder,” He paused, “Yes.”

He was wrong about Anakin. He had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many people ship Obi-Wan with Cody? 
> 
> I hadn't decided who to ship him with when I started this and now I don't even know if I want him to be in a romantic relationship. It doesn't matter to me either way. I'm just curious what people think.


	8. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress is rarely a straight line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your responses! My inclination is to keep CodyWan platonic, but my feelings on it change from day to day. Just wanted to see what y'all would think of any possibility. 
> 
> I'm happy most of you support whatever I decide fits best in the story!

“Why don’t you sit down?” 

“I’d rather stand,” Anakin growled, facing the window.

He didn’t mean to be rude, but once again his emotions were controlling him. He recognized it, but he couldn’t stop it.

He was lucky Bant was willing to be his mind healer. He wasn’t sure he could stand to talk to anyone who didn’t know him personally. The Mon Calamari was a constant presence during his apprenticeship. She was the one who taught him how to swim, who healed his bumps and bruises from pod-racing, who was always there. She was used to his tantrums.

She wasn’t Obi-Wan, but she knew his former Master well enough to speak for him.

“Ani,” She sighed, “Sit down.”

He sat, “I just...they’re all out there and I’m stuck here.”

“If I had it my way, you would all be stuck here,” Bant crossed her legs, “There’s no shame in needing time to heal.”

Heal, because the Jedi were helping him after what he did. It wasn’t forgiveness, but it wasn’t a complete rejection either. They were helping him process the trauma of losing his mother. They were soothing the still raging grief within him. Sure, the Council mostly agreed because they feared he would join the Sith if left to his own devices.

They weren’t exactly wrong. He wasn’t the Jedi he should be.

He was determined to try, but he found himself lost without his anger. It was the only thing he brought with him from Tatooine. It was his only constant throughout his life. He defined himself by his pain. His pain fueled his anger. He tied his anger to love and forgot that just because he wasn’t getting angry at his mother’s death didn’t mean he loved her any less.

Letting go didn't mean forgetting.

He constantly had to remind himself that love wasn’t supposed to be selfish too. 

His mother wanted him to be a Jedi. She told him to never look back. She would be horrified by what he did. 

She would want him to make peace with it anyways. If he truly loved her, he would do as she wished. There was no better way to honor her.

It was hard to accept what Obi-Wan said, but for most of his childhood he’d been treated as an object. What he wanted came second to what his owner wanted. He didn’t realize he was emulating that behavior until he was forced to look at his actions. Killing the tuskens was what he wanted to do. Being an asshole to Rush Clovis was what he wanted.

When he was caught up in the moment, he disregarded the feelings of those he loved. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. Obi-Wan always said the Dark Side was selfish...but it was hard to learn to be selfless. He was supposed to find peace and happiness, but that couldn’t come at the cost of someone else’s. 

It was hard. 

Without the maelstrom of war, each day felt like an eternity. Every day he spent in the Temple, talking to Bant, spending time in the creches, surrounded by light, he felt a piece of himself return.

He didn’t realize how much of himself he’d lost since his return to Tatooine.

He wasn’t sure what it would feel like to be whole. 

He took a deep breath, centering himself, “I just want to help.”

“You are helping,” Bant soothed, “The crechemasters have been struggling to find teachers for the more advanced classes. They are beyond grateful for your assistance in teaching mechanics.”

The only ones who knew his true crimes were the Council and those Quinlan Vos personally informed. 

That group included Bant, Garen, and Reeft. He thought they would be angry with him, just as he thought Obi-Wan would explode. Yet none of them were. Bant was always calm in their daily sessions. Garen took him flying to clear his head. Reeft wasn’t back yet, but he wouldn’t act differently than his crechemates. 

Their anger was reserved for the Sith Master.

“I could be doing more,” He insisted. 

“Would that make you feel better?” Bant wondered, “Or would it just make it easier to ignore everything else?”

He smirked, “Isn’t that what Obi-Wan does?”

“Padawans are supposed to grow past their Masters,” The healer shook her head, slightly amused at his response, “Not become them.”

He sighed, “I know. I’m just worried about them.”

“And that worry is born out of attachment,” The Mon Calamari said gently.

“I still don’t get how I’m supposed to let that go,” He fought the urge to stand and pace. He meditated for hours on his attachments and possessive behavior. He was no closer to being free of them. He thought he was making some progress, but then they got an update on the situation on Mon Cala. The Gungans were unsuccessful in turning the tide.

For all they knew, they were doomed to a watery grave.

“Do you trust them?” Bant asked.

“What?” He snapped himself out of that line of thinking before he could get angry again.

“Do you trust them?” She repeated.

“Of course,” There was nobody he trusted more. Padme, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka were all there.

“Then act like it,” The healer challenged, “They are good at what they do. They’ve been in tougher situations than this-”

“With me,” He interjected.

“Were you always the reason they survived?” She asked.

He winced. As much as he thought he came in and saved the day, there were just as many times where they endangered themselves to come save him, “No, but they had better odds with me.”

“But circumstances have changed,” Bant pointed out, “You aren’t there anymore, but they also have Korkie and Boba.”

“They’re just kids,” He dismissed.

“Just kids?” She repeated incredulously, “Korkie is the future Duke of Mandalore. He understands diplomacy and negotiation better than you.” He acknowledged that was probably true, “And Boba? He almost succeeded in killing you and Master Windu, two of the Order’s best. Perhaps not directly, but that just means he knows how to fight smart.”

Also true.

“If you took a moment to think through your worries, you’ll realize there is no logic in them,” Bant finished softly, “You love some of the strongest people in the Republic, Anakin. Believe in them.”

It wasn’t that simple! All it took was one mistake, one oversight, and people could die. That’s what happened to Darra. If he hadn’t gotten jealous of Ferus, if he’d just told him that he’d made some modifications to Tru’s lightsaber, then it wouldn’t have faltered in battle. Darra wouldn’t have died if all of them were properly armed. 

“It’s so easy to die,” He deflated in his seat.

“It is,” She agreed, “But no amount of power will change that.”

Not even the Dark Side could stop death. Otherwise Sith Lords would live forever. Garen told him that one.

“I suppose we could minimize the risk of death,” She continued after a pause, “Stay in the Temple. Never go off world. Never get in another fight again…” She trailed off, shaking her head, “Can you imagine any of them agreeing to live a safe life?”

He closed his eyes, “No.”

He certainly wouldn’t. 

“Do you think they are ignorant of the risks they take?” She asked.

He let out a deep breath, “No.”

“We accept that every mission could be our last. We know the danger we place ourselves in to do our duty,” She came closer to place a hand on his knee, “We may not want to die, and I’m sure we won’t expect it when our time comes, but it’s a reality we must accept or drive ourselves insane trying to reject.”

Anakin tried to reframe his worry. He risked his life a lot in the line of duty. He didn’t expect to die, but he accepted it as a possibility. Siths hell, he accepted it as a probability sometimes. Why couldn’t that be how he viewed his loved one’s? They all accepted the risks of the job, just as he did. If they could be at peace with them, why couldn’t he?

Why couldn’t he?

“Attachment is natural. No one can live completely detached,” She squeezed, “But the solution to attachment is trust. If you trust them, you can let them go.”

He could try.

***********************************

At a certain point, one got used to being held captive. It was certainly more pleasant on Mon Cala thanon Geonosis, though not quite as comfortable as being Hondo’s prisoner. The occasional electric shock wasn’t fun, nor was the knowledge that all his captors needed to do to kill him was sabotage his suit. Still, he always wanted to visit his best friend’s homeworld.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, lightly meditating as he waited to be freed.

“You are awfully confident in your children,” Kit muttered.

He was. He wouldn’t be Qui-Gon. They deserved his confidence as much as Anakin had. Until they individually betrayed them, that wouldn’t change. 

Or so he kept telling himself.

Ahsoka could keep them hidden from any patrols. Siths hell, she alone would be able to free them. Boba was a skilled marksman who wouldn’t underestimate the enemy. Korkie was so good at reading people that he checked him for Force-sensitivity. He would be able to anticipate the enemy based on what he observed in the short negotiations.

“Have they given me any reason not to be?” He asked

His friend sent him a wave of sympathy, reading too deep into his question, “I am sorry about Skywalker, Obi-Wan. His betrayal cut us all deeply, but I am gladdened you trust your new apprentices.”

“Oh,” Padme drew attention to herself, “Is there a reason General Skywalker couldn’t be here?”

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. Really? She was going to play dumb? That was beneath her.

“He’s on probation,” The Nautolan revealed. It wasn’t like they could keep it a secret forever. The details, certainly, but it was best to let everyone pretend that Anakin was finally being punished for his insubordination than the real crime.

“What did he do to deserve that?” She asked, almost pulling off the correct amount of disapproval and curiosity.

“We're waiting for the full investigation to conclude,” Obi-Wan answered. She damn well knew what he was on probation for. She had the nerve to look at him like he was the one being difficult. Like he was in the wrong somehow. Granted, she probably thought there wasn’t much to investigate and was lying, but were their lies remotely comparable?

“Can the Republic afford his absence from the front lines?” She wondered next.

“He is but one man,” Kit replied, “The Republic will be better off without him.”

Her lips thinned, but she continued, “The Senate will not agree with that assessment.”

Was that a threat?

“I hope the Order is prepared to explain why they are keeping their best General away from the war,” She continued.

He couldn’t believe she was threatening to bring the wrath of the Senate on them. They were not the criminals here. They were not the murderers. She was too blinded by her love for Anakin to see that the probation was for his own good. She was trying to ‘free’ him from his ‘captors’. 

It saddened him, but he was tired of being sad and betrayed.

“Senator Amidala-” Kit started.

“Ignore her,” He interjected, “She’s worried for her husband.”

Her eyes widened, as though surprised he would say that. Why should he keep their secrets? What was so wrong about being honest? 

“Husband?” His fellow Councilor echoed, “You mean…”

“She married Anakin shortly after the war started,” Obi-Wan revealed tiredly, “I only learned of it recently.”

He could feel Kit’s surprise turn to suspicion. In Anakin’s account of the events leading to his crimes, he claimed it was his idea to go back to Tatooine. Given what they knew now, and how it was very likely someone from Naboo plotted his mother’s death, that story was suspect. What if Padme planted the idea to go back? What if she manipulated him using his feelings for her?

Anakin’s near obsession with her at least made sense. His feelings for Padme stemmed back to his childhood. She was the angel that helped free him from slavery. It made sense that he would always see her as perfect. It fit that when they met again his affection would grow into something akin to love.

Her returning those feelings didn’t make sense. Anakin spent countless days over the course of a decade thinking of the young Queen that saved him. He doubted Padme did the same for a young boy she last saw joining the Jedi. 

She wasn’t old enough to be the Sith Master, but the desire for power wasn’t just a Sith trait.

He didn’t want to cast undeserved suspicion, but her attitude since Anakin’s probation proved his former Padawan wasn’t the only dangerous one here. If she tried to get him out of Jedi custody, convince him that he should revoke his membership and go to live with her...then she was helping the enemy. He couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not.

Kit shook his head, “Of course they tried to keep it a secret.”

“What other choice did we have?” Padme demanded.

The Nautolan tilted his head back, “I’ve always thought of love as a fundamental good, a connection and understanding between people that helps us feel less alone in the vastness of existence. Love should bring joy, peace, fulfillment. Love is light,” He didn’t look at her, “Love should not cause such anguish, such darkness, yet that is all I see in your marriage.”

“What other choice did you have?” He repeated, “You could have let it go. You are young, Senator. You have your whole life ahead of you, full of other loves. Perhaps this love is not easy to let go of, but this love only causes you distress. Why would you cling to it when it will destroy you?”

The former Queen looked like she was listening finally. The tension in her posture bled out, “We knew what we were doing was wrong. We just...didn’t want to have regrets.”

“Yet your marriage is becoming regrettable,” Kit grimaced.

“It would work if…” She trailed off.

“If he wasn’t a Jedi?” His friend completed, “Or is it if the Jedi were more lenient? Perhaps if you weren’t a Senator or we weren’t at war?” He paused, “We all wish for better circumstances, but we must accept the lives we live, not ignore them in favor of a fantasy.”

Obi-Wan went back to half-meditating, keeping track of Ahsoka through their bond. She seemed hopeful, meaning they had a plan. He just hoped it wasn’t a reckless one.

Padme would either understand or she wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t let her accidentally, or otherwise, place Anakin into any more danger.

“Such wisdom,” He said sarcastically, “If only you could look a little more professional.”

“You’re just jealous you can’t fight shirtless.”

***********************************

War was hell.

Korkie leaned back against the stone, wishing for some sensation that wasn’t the thick material of the SCUBA suit or the ever present cold of the deep water. Ahsoka settled next to him, their shoulders touching as she offered silent comfort. Boba grabbed the rock across from them, his expression unreadable. Prince Lee-Char floated in between. 

“Why would they do this?” The young prince demanded, his voice both betrayed and worried.

“They saw an opportunity to gain power and took it,” Boba shrugged, “Happens all the time.”

“But this is ruining our world!” Lee-Char threw his arms out.

“Doesn’t matter to them,” The former bounty hunter scoffed, “As long as they have control at the end of the day, they’ll consider it a victory.”

“Boba,” Ahsoka interjected, “We need a plan, not cynicism.”

The kid rolled his eyes, “Fine. Let’s kill Tamson. The droids’ll crumble without an actual brain leading them.”

“We can’t reach Tamson.” His sister shook her head, “Not without going through those droids.”

“Then we use the prince as bait,” Boba suggested.

“Not an option,” Korkie shot down immediately, “As long as he’s free the people have hope.”

“Hope’s not worth much if we don’t do anything, Dorkie.” The kid snapped.

Boba started calling him that during their first firefight together. Dorkie Kryze. It was childish and stupid, but it got under his skin like nothing else. Dorkie was a reminder that he was clumsy and untrained. As if he wasn’t aware he was nowhere near the level of Boba or Ahsoka and a liability in the field. 

He made a face at the kid, “We’ll figure something out.”

It was a terrible situation. 

The Republic and Mon Calamari forces were either dead or in labor camps. His father was captured buying them time to escape. For all he knew, he was dead, along with General Fisto and Senator Amidala. His sister told him he was still alive, but Tamson was cruel. Alive was the bare minimum of existence.

He could see why his mother stayed neutral. Mon Cala was being torn apart by the fighting between the Republic and the Separatists. If they just declared neutrality, if neither of them reached out to the warring higher powers, then this could have been settled peacefully. 

Given the Quarren’s desire for power, maybe peace was never an option.

Innocents were being placed in labor camps. Their need for control became domination.

He understood his father’s need to fight. He couldn’t imagine doing nothing. People had to stand up to that form of cruelty.

The prince deflated, “Will the Republic send more reinforcements?”

“Likely not after the Gungans failure,” Ahsoka grimaced, “We don’t have many forces that excel in this environment. It would take time for our battalions or the Mando’ade to be outfitted with the right equipment.”

“By then, the Separatist’s hold will be too strong. They shot down Fisto’s ship. They can probably shoot down another,” Boba crossed his arms, “And they’ll have your entire population as hostages. Not to mention two High Generals and a Galactic Senator.”

“So we have to strike soon,” The Jedi Padawan declared.

“How?” The former bounty hunter scoffed.

Korkie forced his heart to stop racing. He wasn’t a naturally gifted fighter like Boba. He didn’t have the Force like Ahsoka. He was essentially on the same level as Lee-Char, and it still surprised him that the four of them managed to fight their way out of the city. The idea of going against the army with just the four of them terrified him.

They needed allies, and the best ones they had were on world with them.

They had to be overlooking something. If only he could remember what...

“Chairman Ri apologized,” He remembered suddenly.

“What does that have to do with anything, Dorkie?” Boba frowned at him.

“You weren’t there,” He dismissed, “Before the Quarren walked out, Chairman Ri apologized for your father’s death, Your Highness.”

“He did,” Lee-Char confirmed.

“You know him better than me, do you believe his condolences were false?” He asked.

The prince considered his question, then shook his head, “No, but does it matter?”

“You said it yourself, this is ruining your world. This isn’t benefiting the Quarren,” He glanced at his siblings, “Cody warned us to be ready for the Separatists betrayal. What if the Quarren didn’t want this invasion either?”

“The Quarren betrayed the Mon Calamari to control the planet. From what we’ve seen, Tamson’s in charge.” Boba’s eyes widened, “The Separatists betrayed the Quarren.”

“Which means we have allies,” Ahsoka’s eye lit up, “It isn’t just us.”

“Not bad, Dorkie,” The freed prisoner smirked, “If you aren’t wrong.”

Kriff, he hoped he wasn’t wrong. If just to show Boba he was here for a reason.

***********************************

General Feemor was the 501st's new General.

Rex tried not to let what he'd heard about him from his lineage affect his assessment. He was General Kenobi's brother in name only. If he wanted to be more than that...

Well, that was none of his business. 

He seemed like he would be a decent General, which was all that mattered at the end of the day. He was more sane than Skywalker, but considering what Skywalker did, maybe sane was good. He respected them as people. He might have objected to the war earlier, but he seemed to be making up for it now. 

"He checks out, Cody," He informed the Marshall Commander.

"Hm," His brother frowned, "I suppose we should meet then."

"Before your General comes back from Mon Cala?" Rex knew Cody. 

"Naturally."

He should have known. 

"Don't scare him away. I kinda like him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me! Well, and my twin, but he's unlikely to read this. 
> 
> I didn't change much of the plot from the show, but there aren't many ways for the Mon Cala arc to have gone differently. When we get to Umbara and Zygerria, then we'll start to branch off more


	9. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of war is hard to deal with, especially when there are new people.

Protect Prince Lee-Char. 

That’s what Kenobi told them to do.

Boba didn’t know where everyone else was, but he was currently the only one left with his Highness. Well, the only one after the other guards were killed by Tamson. He luckily threw himself back before one of those exploding daggers could catch him. He swam towards the Prince, firing off a few ineffectual shots to divert the Karkarodon’s attention.

“Run!” He shouted. He might not be a good enough fighter to take on the warlord. The prince definitely wasn’t good enough.

“I’m tired of running!” Lee-Char gripped his weapon tighter, “This is my fight, Fett. Stay back.”

There was no time to tell him how stupid he was. Tamson charged. His goal was to kill the Mon Calamari, not him. The former bounty hunter hesitated to take another shot while they tussled, but the Karkarodon was a sadistic bastard. He was one of the assholes who wanted to monologue before killing his prey.

He wasn’t surprised to hear the Separatist murdered the king. 

He was surprised Lee-Char got one of those daggers in their brawl.

Boba gave the prince three attempts to kill his father’s murderer before he lined up the shot to trigger the explosion early. He fired off a shot without any further thought. Tamson was a dead man swimming at that point anyways. There was no point risking the prince’s life by letting him get too close.

It was disturbing to see him torn to shreds. His stomach rolled, as it always did when he killed someone. A weakness to Singh, but his father once told him it took years for him to kill without being affected. They weren’t monsters. 

For a long moment, there was silence.

Lee-Char swam over to him, “Thank you, Fett.”

He inclined his head, “I’m just doing my job.”

What a job it turned out to be. He didn’t expect Kenobi to relent and allow the three of them to come to Mon Cala. He half expected General Fisto to order him to remain on the ship once reinforcements were called. But Kenobi entrusted him with this task, and so did General Fisto when they faced capture. 

They trusted him. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

Though maybe Kenobi was just trying to flatter him. He didn’t think the Jedi would risk an entire planet for that. No, he genuinely thought he was skilled and didn’t feel the need to check for himself. It was...nice.

It made him want to deserve it.

He noticed the other members gathering. Some started celebrating their new king. He swam towards the surface. He was tired of constantly being vulnerable. It would be a while until the Negotiator came to pick them up, but he needed to breathe fresh air. If doing so kept him away from the judging eyes of Dorkie Kryze, it was an unintended benefit.

He removed his helmet and sprawled over the surface, resisting the urge to vomit. It wasn’t the first time he killed someone, but there was a difference between setting someone up to die and just outright shooting them. There was a difference between his old methods and a battlefield, a bounty hunter and a soldier.

He’d never held the fate of a world in his hands. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Boba stared up at the clear sky. He could pretend for a moment the cold on his back was the firm press of metal. He could pretend he was on Kamino on a good day, taking a break from helping repair Slave 1.

He missed the simple life.

Kenobi wasn’t trying to replace his buir, but it didn’t change that Kenobi was a father. 

Hearing Korkie and Ahsoka talk about him...it was hard to listen to. Kenobi was there for them. He loved them and supported them. They spoke of the skills he was passing on to them, as a Jedi for the Padawan and as a diplomat for the blood son. It brought to mind all the lessons his buir taught him. It reminded him he would never get a lesson like that again.

This wasn’t just some job. This was a family.

And he found himself desperately wanting more despite himself. He resisted the urge to put the helmet back on and seek out Kenobi. He was curious to see what his reaction to killing Tamson would be. He doubted he would be criticized for doing what was necessary. No, he would likely face praise, maybe a celebration because his actions saved a King and a world.

He hated how the urge got stronger.

Someone broke the surface next to him. He glanced, slightly surprised to find Kenobi removing his helmet. He sat up, “Are we needed?”

“No,” The Mand’alor answered, “I’m just checking in.”

Right, because Boba was technically his responsibility. He floated back, looking up at the sky, “I’m fine.”

“Most who go against Tamson aren’t,” Kenobi replied casually.

“I’m not most people,” He said flatly.

“True,” A pause, “Good work today, Boba.”

“What? No reprimand for killing?” He glimpsed Dorkie before he came to the surface. The future Duke looked horrified that he killed someone.

“With the likes of Tamson, it’s kill or be killed,” The Mand’alor didn’t sound disappointed, “I trust you to know the difference between necessity and pleasure.”

He relaxed. Not that he needed his approval. It was just a relief to know his slate was still clean, “Wasn’t sure you did with the way your son reacted.”

“I’ve killed more than my fair share,” Kenobi admitted, “Korkie doesn’t yet fully understand that powerful does not necessarily mean dangerous.”

Power could be used for good or evil. He could liberate worlds, or he could oppress them. 

A single choice separated the hero from the villain. The Mand’alor’s beliefs weren’t far from the Separatists, but where Dooku chose to go the extra parsec and destroy the Republic, Kenobi was content with circumventing it.

He chose correctly today, but he was under no delusions the choices would always be this simple. It was easy to pick Lee-Char over Tamson. It was easy to repel a Separatist invasion, but what about when they became the invading force? Dorkie still saw this reality as good and evil. He hadn’t learned that everyone had blood on their hands.

Maybe the blood belonged to shitty people, but you couldn’t tell from looking at the stains. 

It was why the future Duke didn’t belong out here.

The silence was comfortable. He thought the Mand’alor would be like his other children, always chattering about whatever was on his mind. But this wasn’t a meeting. There were no lectures. No, this was a lull in the war, the eye of a hurricane, a moment of peace. He glanced at the man to see him lost in his own thoughts. 

His buir would get like that sometimes after a tough hunt. Not everything deserved a celebration. Sometimes introspection was needed.

“Do you like this?” He wondered. 

“Like what?” Kenobi turned to meet his gaze.

He shrugged, “This.”

Being a hero, being a Jedi, being Mand’alor. Did he like holding the fate of worlds in his hands? Or did he just do it because it was all he knew? All Boba knew was fighting and surviving. He couldn’t say whether he liked it or not because the only other thing he could compare this to was prison. He was curious if his new mentor actually enjoyed this or if his path was decided for him.

“It has its ups and downs,” Kenobi answered, “But I’ve been given the opportunity to give it up many times and chose to stay.”

“Did you choose to stay?” He asked, “Or were you scared to leave?”

A flicker of amusement, “It was my choice, as it is yours, young one.”

“Stay out of my head,” He muttered half-heartedly. 

“I don’t need the Force to tell what’s on your mind,” Kenobi looked away, “I can’t tell you if this is all worth it. I don’t know if it is. This life takes and takes without guarantee you will ever be rewarded for your sacrifices.” He brought a hand up to his face, uncaring that water droplets fell, “Your father told me he was a simple man just trying to make his way through the universe.”

Boba tensed at the mention of his buir, “Maybe he had it right. Maybe there’s no point in caring about more than ourselves. Maybe there is no bigger picture, just chaos we desperately wish held order, and when we reach our end we’ll realize all our struggles were for nothing...but if given the choice between fighting and watching, I’d rather fight.”

He wanted to argue his father did fight, but his father didn’t fight for anything. He didn’t stand for anything greater than himself. He did, when he was younger, but all that was ripped away from him. He never fought to regain it. 

His anger slowly bled out of him, the fire within him cooled by the ocean, “I want to fight too.”

“Then you’re in the right place.”

Boba would stay. If anyone was leaving, it was Dorkie.

***********************************

Ahsoka was glad to be back in space. Mon Cala was stressful, and as the oldest she was forced to be the calm one while everything fell apart around them. 

It didn’t help that Korkie and Boba were at each other’s throats for most of it. 

She didn’t think it could get worse, then their youngest killed Tamson. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Korkie wondered as he pulled on his boots. The two of them were released from debrief since they weren’t with the Prince the entire time. It was a minor rebuke of their behavior. Boba’s smirk when they left the room made her want to punch it off him, but the former bounty hunter saved the day with his incredible marksmanship. 

“What?” She wondered sarcastically, “Boba killing a murderous warlord in self-defense?” 

“It didn’t bother him at all,” Korkie clarified.

“It doesn’t bother me much anymore,” Ahsoka pointed out, “Pretty sure it doesn’t bother Master Obi-Wan either, or any of our men. Taking a life is the last resort, but some people are too dangerous to be left alive.”

“I just…” He trailed off.

“I know,” She sat down next to him, “It’s hard to face the reality of war.” 

He wasn’t like her and Boba. Violence was never part of his life up until he joined them. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy for him. He was more like his mother than he wanted to admit. There was every chance he would turn his back on war after seeing it up close. He could return to Mandalore any time he wanted.

“We have to take a stand against evil,” He said slowly, “But to do so we risk becoming the very evil we are attempting to destroy. I don’t want this to be normal.”

“It’s only normal until the war is over,” She consoled, “When there’s peace again-”

“Is there ever such a thing as peace?” He interrupted, “As long as there are weapons, there will be violence and death.”

Ahsoka was pretty sure she heard Duchess Satine use those very words. For a moment, she considered comming her new Master. He was wise enough for this debate. He was experienced enough in matters of peace and war to say things with confidence. At the end of the day, she wasn’t much older than Korkie.

Their experiences in life were different, but that didn’t invalidate them. He knew peace. She knew war. He did real negotiations. She did aggressive negotiations. He still fumbled with a blaster. She was getting comfortable with her second lightsaber. 

He wanted to talk about peace…

For a moment, she considered suggesting they call his mother. Duchess Satine would know more about pacifism than she did. 

But if she pushed him to talk to her, he would push her to call Anakin. 

She wasn’t ready for that yet, and neither was he. She wasn’t like her new Master. She didn’t know how to forgive betrayals so easily. She wasn’t mad at Anakin...but she wasn’t eager to hear his voice. She knew him. After a few weeks with the healers he was going to be bored. Boredom would become irritation. Irritation led to anger.

She also didn’t want to accidentally give him a reason to worry about her. He wouldn’t just talk about himself, he would ask how she was doing. She didn’t want to give him any reason to think he needed to keep fighting in the war when he was mentally unfit. 

“A weapon isn’t good or evil,” She decided to say gently, “Good and evil belong to people.” She struggled to continue, “I suppose there isn’t such a thing as peace. Even when this war’s over, there’s still corruption, crime, slavery...the struggle against evil is never over, and nonviolent solutions won’t always work.”

He was quiet for a long moment, “I don’t know if I can kill someone, Ahsoka.”

That’s what she thought. They were fighting a droid army. The expectation was to kill robots. There were probably troopers who had never been deployed to a world where the population also fought, nor had they ever found a sentient commanding officer. There likely was a way through this war where one could only destroy droids.

But with Master Obi-Wan leading them, that wasn’t their path. 

As a Mandalorian, her younger brother would eventually face a living, breathing opponent. 

“We’re at war, Korkie,” She leaned closer to him, “It’s unavoidable, not without risking your life and the lives of those who will protect you.”

He bowed his head, “Are you telling me to go home?”

“I’m telling you that if you stay, you’ll probably end up killing someone,” She grabbed his hand.

He grimaced, “And if it isn’t an enemy, it’ll be an ally.”

She wished it could be different. She held his hand tighter. As a Jedi, she was taught how death was a part of life as natural as anything else. It wasn’t to be feared. When the Force willed it, she would join it. Seeing as it was her duty to follow the will of the Force, if she was its tool for another life to go to the next stage of existence, she could live with killing. 

“That’s why Boba hates me,” Korkie closed his eyes.

“He doesn’t hate you…” She trailed off.

“He just thinks I’m a liability.”

She wasn’t sure that was it either. She was pretty sure Boba was jealous. Korkie knew who he was. Even if he didn’t manage to be Mand’alor, he would be a pretty badass Duke one day. He had a whole life to fall back on should he decide he didn’t want to be here. 

Boba didn’t have that. He didn’t know where he fit, and until then, he would test their boundaries and patience.

That’s what his cruel nickname was. 

“You convinced him to come with us,” Ahsoka reminded him, “He’s just testing how much you really want him here.”

“I’m always going to be tested,” Korkie leaned on her.

“That’s probably true,” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, “I promise it all gets easier, even if it shouldn’t.”

Everything was a test. They would rise to the occasion or they wouldn’t.

“I just started training,” Her brother steeled himself, “I’m not giving up yet.”

There was a knock on the door, then Boba came in, “Kenobi’s sparring with the new General.”

***********************************

Cody observed General Feemor on their trip to pick up Obi-wan and the others. There were some similarities between the brothers, but they were trained by the same man so those made sense. They both preferred tea over caf. They talked with the same pacing. They even seemed to radiate the same serene energy, even if they didn’t look similar at all.

General Feemor glanced at him, “I’m still waiting for the interrogation.”

The Commander tilted his head, “I’m not the one who deserves an explanation.”

The small smile died on his face, “How much has Obi-Wan told you about me?”

“Almost nothing,” He answered honestly, “He isn’t inclined to make judgments about people he doesn’t know.”

Another flinch, “You don’t hold back with your words, Commander.”

“Never felt a need to, sir,” Cody saw Rex glaring at him, but at the end of the day Obi-Wan could pull rank to get him out of any insubordination charge. And if General Feemor were truly trying to reconnect with the rest of his lineage, he wouldn’t risk doing anything bad to him.

The new General of the 501st met his gaze, “I deeply regret how I treated Obi-Wan. He deserved better.”

If he was lying, the trooper couldn’t tell, “I don’t know all the details about your situation. From what I’ve heard about Xanatos, it was bad,” General Feemor grimaced, and he continued, “I do know what it means to be a brother. You’re supposed to be there when it matters. You weren’t. The family he has now, General Kenobi built for himself. Without you.”

“And there isn’t any place for me in it,” The new General finished.

“I didn’t say that,” Cody shrugged, “I can’t say that.”

That earned him a glimmer of surprise, “You know him best, Commander.”

“I consider him a friend,” The Commander shifted.

He recognized the look General Feemor was sending him. It was a specific mixture of pity, disbelief, and condescension. Cody trained himself to respond to that look with anger, and he didn’t bother restraining himself for the Jedi in the room. Nor did he hide his expression from his brothers, who all tensed at his fury.

He was aware of Obi-Wan’s reputation. He didn’t know the details until recently, but he knew what many thought about him. 

When Obi-Wan was on Melida/Daan, he fell in love with a fellow soldier who helped him survive. During the resulting struggles of his apprenticeship, he fell in love with another Padawan who kept him from giving up. On Mandalore, when his Master left him with their job, he fell in love with the pacifist he always wished he could be.

Once was chance, twice coincidence. Three times was a pattern, and now they were in the midst of the largest war since the formation of the Republic. Those who remembered what his General was like assumed Cody was going to be his next love. 

Maybe he was, but they weren’t going to break regs. They were in the middle of a kriffing war!

He wasn’t secretly fucking his General. It pissed him off how so many people looked at him like that was all he was to his friend. Like he was just the nearest warm body.

He took a deep breath, and turned away, “If you still believe he’s the same person he was under Master Jinn, then you should resign your command and give it to someone who can see Obi-Wan clearly.”

He left the bridge without being dismissed. 

Rex followed a step behind, “He didn’t say anything-”

“He doesn’t have to,” Cody snapped.

“He’s a good man,” The Captain defended, “He just...doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to your General.”

“Then he should just leave him alone,” He stopped walking to lean on a wall.

Rex watched him for a moment, “He’s not Skywalker. He’s not going to hurt General Kenobi.”

Anyone was better than Skywalker, but that didn’t mean they were good. 

He avoided the new General until the debriefing of what happened on Mon Cala. He noted Boba was the only kid in the room, but Jango’s son managed to give a clear, concise report about their time on their own. Obi-Wan looked proud of them. General Feemor kept his silence, but there was no mistaking the way his gaze trailed to his Jedi.

“My forces will stay a few more rotations with the Senator,” General Fisto rose with a smile, “It was a pleasure working with you, Obi-Wan. We should do this again sometime.”

The other High Generals signed off the call, leaving them alone. Obi-Wan nodded, “May the Force be with you.”

General Feemor offered his parting words, then the Nautolan was gone. 

“Let’s make this quick,” His General started before a silence could settle, “You are a good fit for the 501st. They are used to...winging it, for lack of a better word, though I suppose you would call it following the will of the Force. I will listen to your advice, but I expect you to follow my orders. This is a military, and I am the higher ranking General.”

“I know what I signed on for, Obi-Wan,” Feemor returned, “I’m not here to sabotage you.”

“No, you’re here to watch me for the Council,” Obi-Wan crossed his arms.

“I’m not here for that,” The new General started to rise, “I just want to help.”

“Haven’t you been with the farmers?” Boba interjected, “Are you even a good fighter?”

“An excellent question,” Cody agreed, “Why don’t you get Korkie and Ahsoka to meet us in the training salle?”

The kid smirked at him, then ran off before either Jedi could protest. Obi-Wan smoothed his hair back, “How long has it been since we sparred, Feemor?”

“Too long,” Feemor fiddled with his lightsaber, “But wouldn’t you rather rest after your mission?”

“Rest is a luxury,” Obi-Wan turned, and led the way, “How has everything been, Cody?”

He gave him a rundown about their restock on Coruscant, also filling him in on the latest Senate gossip Fox passed on. It looked like Palpatine wasn’t happy with his speech, but there were too many calls for an election for him to attack Obi-Wan’s position. Senator Organa was trying to set a date for an election, but it was unclear if one of Palpatine’s inner circle would just end up being elected.

“Politics,” General Feemor scoffed.

“The lifeblood of the Republic,” Obi-Wan quipped.

The new General looked like he was about to respond, but the children arrived together. Korkie looked...off, but he was likely still reeling from his first experience with war. He would either deal with it or he would go home. Some people didn’t have the mindset for this, and there was no shame in accepting that. He wasn’t a soldier.

“Planning to take off that armor?” General Feemor asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan drew the darksaber, sliding into his starting position.

His older brother’s eyes narrowed, “Soresu still?”

“Still?” Ahsoka echoed.

“I mastered Ataru first,” Obi-Wan answered, “Qui-Gon thought it fit me better. Didn’t start seriously learning Soresu until after I was knighted.”

Cody could read between the lines. Ataru was the original attack form. Soresu was the main defensive form. Master Jinn taught the more aggressive form to the child he saw as more aggressive. From what he’d seen and heard, Soresu was all about control. Fighting with Soresu was a declaration of control and endurance. 

It showed how wrong Qui-Gon was about his last Padawan.

Their fight started, and Cody noted General Feemor fought with Ataru. A surprise for a man of his height. Maybe he thought he’d have the advantage of flexibility with Obi-Wan in beskar’gam. He was wrong. Their first match didn’t last very long before his General had the other disarmed with both blades pointed at the older man.

“Never thought Soresu would fit you so well,” Feemor accepted his weapon back.

“I imagine you never thought a great many things would,” Obi-Wan replied. 

The blond flinched, “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan.”

Cody watched his General consider his apology, before shaking his head, “Why now, Feemor? You were never interested in being part of my life before.”

Feemor bit his lip, then deactivated his blade, “You have a son who isn’t Force-sensitive.”

Understanding grew behind his General’s blue eyes, “I always wondered what you thought about that.”

“Wait,” Korkie interrupted, “You’re here for me?”

The brothers exchanged a long look, before Obi-Wan sighed, “I know we agreed no more secrets, but this isn’t easy for me to talk about.” He clipped the darksaber to his belt, “Xanatos had a son, Granta Omega. He didn’t believe his father committed suicide, so sought revenge on Qui-Gon and I. Since I was the only one still alive, he came after me.”

“He killed Master Yaddle and a Padawan. He tried to assassinate the Chancellor,” His General grimaced, “Since he wasn’t Force-sensitive, he used technology to keep up with Jedi. I didn’t want to kill him, but he was doing his best to kill me. I sabotaged his tech, and he died in the resulting explosion.” He looked away, “I killed my nephew.”

“You didn’t want to,” Ahsoka pointed out.

“Do intentions matter more than results?” Obi-Wan wondered.

“I should have been there,” Feemor said, “We could have captured him, helped him.” His hands clenched into fists at his side, “So I’m here now, if you’ll have me. Our lineage is a mess, those of us who are decent need to stick together.”

Well at least they finally had a reason.

General Feemor had a lot to make up for, but he couldn’t make up for it sitting on his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to reach the Umbara arc soon, but also not too soon. How many chapters do y'all think would be an acceptable gap?


	10. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy is a terrible feeling.

Now that Ahsoka knew he was a Master of Ataru, she demanded advanced training in acrobatics. 

Obi-Wan watched Feemor walk her through one of the more elaborate maneuvers. Striking down at an opponent wasn’t new to her, but striking down whilst upside down was. She was still prone to jumping too high, thus having to overreach to hit her opponent and leaving her exposed. Anakin never put much stock in grace. It showed.

His older brother was trying. 

He was trying to connect with his children in a way he never tried with him. 

It was nice. Feemor was here as a punishment, but it was still nice. The Council wasn’t happy with his recent actions, but they couldn't risk the backlash if they kicked him out. They made him a hero, a posterboy, and they were regretting it. Instead of assigning another General who would go along with his plots, they gave him his critical older brother.

He was so much like Qui-Gon. It was only a matter of time before his presence became unbearable. He and Feemor were too different to agree on much.

Obi-Wan drank some water, then cleared his mind of those thoughts. He wasn’t prone to optimism, but maybe his brother would be a good thing. If he was genuine in his desire to support their lineage, then he was decent insurance should the worst happen. 

If the Council decided to kick him out, Feemor could complete Ahsoka’s training. If Korkie left, Feemor could follow him to the Agricorps stationed on Mandalore.

Speaking of Korkie, his gaze switched to the other end of the training room. Bo-Katan was with his son, Boba, and a handful of troopers. He could sense anger brewing in the elder of the two children, his frustration with himself growing in time with his annoyance at Boba. 

His son was doing well for someone who was never educated beyond basic self-defense. He just wasn't raised by the best bounty hunter in the galaxy in a military facility. He would catch up in time. Already he was on par with some of the shinies. The more he sparred, the more experience he would gain. 

He didn’t feel Korkie was going to give up, but the teen obviously thought this would be easier.

Pressure made gems, but gems could crack. He didn’t want his son to push himself too far.

Obi-Wan moved to stand next to Bo-Katan.

The Death Watch’s first mission on Ryloth went better than expected. The slavers who took advantage of the chaos of war were imprisoned, their entire operation crippled. The locals were happy there was no additional military presence. He could feel the smugness radiate off Satine’s sister still, even as he attentively watched the boys train. 

He knew she was a good person deep down. 

“I like the new kid,” Bo-Katan murmured, “He’s strong.” 

“He’s a good kid,” He agreed, “Though I could do without the posturing.”

“Not every kid’s as well trained as yours,” She scoffed, “I was always pushing to see where the lines were.”

“And then you crossed them,” He noted.

She rolled her eyes, “Didn’t you have a rebellious stage?”

He thought about it, “Does Melida/Daan count?”

She stared at him flatly, “No.”

Then no, he supposed he didn’t have a teenage rebellion. His friends certainly had their outbursts, but after Melida/Daan it was a struggle for anyone to take him seriously on his best behavior. The belief he was the perfect Jedi came from then. From fourteen to twenty-five he didn’t do anything rebellious. 

Maybe this was normal. After all, there was only one Mand’alor, and the two boys were the most likely to succeed him. He could pray for a friendly rivalry between them, but they were young. 

When one was young it was easier to see enemies than allies. 

Her expression softened, “Ben, it’s a good thing he’s being a little shit. It means he doesn’t fear you.”

Did he fear Qui-Gon? He thought about the darker moments of his apprenticeship, the moments he still couldn’t bring himself to talk about to those who were around, much less his children. He feared what would happen to him without a Master. He feared never being enough...and in a way, he feared the man he so admired in his youth. 

He feared him enough to swear never to be like him.

“What made you run away?” He decided to ask rather than dwell.

Bo-Katan didn’t have to answer, but he could see the way she watched Feemor. She wasn’t the only one reminded of bad memories. 

“I couldn’t pretend to be happy with Satine’s changes,” She answered slowly, “And I wasn’t ready to oppose her.”

“Is that what you were planning with the Death Watch?” He wondered. Now that he spent more time with her, he could tell her armor wasn’t the same as anyone present when he protected Satine from assassination. She didn’t try to kill her sister, but she was still part of the organization. It didn’t make sense. 

“Vizsla kept me around to legitimize his rule if he ever got there,” Bo-Katan shifted, “I didn’t have a plan of my own. It takes a great person to lead.”

“You’re a great person,” He complimented. 

“I’m great at fighting,” She shrugged, “Not so much at leading. Not like you.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m the best leader,” He muttered.

“You’re not as bad as you think.”

Before he could respond to that, there was a yell. He turned back to see Waxer restraining Korkie. Boil was holding Boba, but the trooper was holding him up, not restraining him. 

Korkie attacked Boba?

He moved onto the mat, “What happened?”

Boba rubbed his cheek, “Dorkie got a good punch in.”

Dorkie?

“Don’t call me that,” Korkie snarled, but knew better than to continue fighting while he was there. 

Now this brought up worse memories.

“Make me,” The youngest smirked. His son almost growled, and the former bounty hunter laughed, “Oh wait, you’re not good enough yet.”

“Enough,” He held up his hands, “Our enemies are out there, not in here.”

“Tell that to the demon brat.” Korkie wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He blinked away the image of two very different boys, only for it to be replaced by another two. In both cases, one went on to do terrible things while the other was left forever changed. He slowly shook his head. He never understood Bruck’s animosity towards him, nor did he comprehend Anakin’s towards Ferus.

If he didn’t understand, how could he hope to fix it?

“Ben?” Bo-Katan placed a hand on his arm.

Why did everything repeat itself?

“Obi-Wan?” Feemor raised his voice in concern.

He shook her off, turning away from the boys, “Jealousy never leads anywhere good.”

Not that he would know.

The only time he had truly been jealous of anyone was when he first met Anakin. It was unavoidable. He spent years trying to get his Master to want him, to see him as more than the impatient, angry twelve-year-old he had been when they first met. For the most part, he failed, but by then he convinced himself he was wanted.

Then his Master found a nine-year-old. He risked their mission, an entire world, to save said boy. Qui-Gon Jinn, who always told him to stay rooted in the present, to never believe his visions of the future, suddenly believed wholeheartedly in an ancient prophecy.

Enough to repudiate him in front of the Council. 

It burned, to see Qui-Gon eager to train a boy who hadn't been raised in the Temple, who the Council declared had too much fear and anger in him to be trained, when their partnership was forced.

Then the Sith attacked and Qui-Gon was gone. 

There wasn't any room for jealousy after that. Anakin was his padawan, not his padawan-brother. 

As soon as he set those feelings aside, he fell in love with the boy. He was so easy to love.

He still was, no matter how much it hurt to carry him in his heart still. 

Obi-Wan tried hard not to think about him. There were too many people in the galaxy who needed his time and attention to linger on one he couldn't help. Feemor couldn't fill the void Anakin left behind. No one could.

They needed time and space away from each other.

But surely one call wouldn't hurt?

***********************************

Korkie watched his father walk out.

Jealous? He wasn’t jealous? Boba was infuriating! He was a smug, unhelpful asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself. Sure, he wanted to be Mand’alor, but he wouldn’t be one of the good ones. His morals were all out of whack. He excused it the first few days because he just got out of prison, but it became obvious his attitude was there to stay.

And solely directed at him.

Boba was trying to make him give up. He thought he would make a better Mand’alor.

Okay, maybe a small part of him resented that he would. A warrior shouldn’t hesitate, but a warrior should also be compassionate, right? Otherwise what made them different from monsters?

“He doesn’t feel okay,” Ahsoka stared at the door, “Should I go after him?”

Feemor shook his head, “No. The best thing we can do for him is settle this now.”

“Settle what?” Boba crossed his arms, “I’m not jealous.”

As much as he loathed to agree with him on something, “Neither am I!”

The new General looked between the two of them, “Perhaps not,” He didn’t sound like he believed them, “But tell me if any of this sounds familiar…”

Korkie moved closer. Feemor and his father were near strangers. Just this man’s presence put the High General on edge, but he was trying to forge a connection. He was trying to make up for his negligence in the past. Korkie personally didn’t have anything against him. Until he gave him a reason to disown him, he would consider him family.

Just like his aunt.

“One of Obi-Wan’s crechemates was jealous of his skill. He envied the attention he earned from Masters and took to calling him Oafy-Wan.” Boba stilled. Korkie winced at the name. It wasn’t something he should have in common with his father, “But no matter how bad he tried to make Obi-Wan look or feel, Obi-Wan kept going, kept succeeding.”

“His bully’s resentment only grew, until it consumed him,” Feemor sighed, “He sought out Xanatos and plotted against the Jedi Order. He helped in an assassination plot against Master Yoda. When that failed, he helped in an attack on the Temple. He took Healer Eerin hostage, and when he was told to kill her, Obi-Wan stopped him.”

Why couldn’t any story they uncovered about his father be good? Every time someone spoke of the past it was always painful. 

“It was deemed an accidental death. They were fighting and his bully slipped. He fell off a cliff,” His almost uncle continued, ignoring their varied reactions, “Obi-Wan felt as if he killed him. He carried that weight with him for a long time. Stars, he may still be carrying it.”

Bo-Katan scoffed, “The bully deserved it.”

“At the end of the day, he was just a scared kid who got guidance from the wrong people,” Feemor looked at him, “He needed acceptance, not condemnation.”

He winced and averted his gaze. At the end of the day, Boba was just a scared kid who fell in with the wrong crowd. It wasn’t his fault his father was a ruthless bounty hunter, or the only people he could go to after he was orphaned were also ruthless bounty hunters. Korkie shouldn’t judge him by his worst actions. He shouldn’t let his taunts distract him.

That’s all those taunts were, a distraction. Boba didn’t want to show any weakness, so he was always on the attack. 

One of them needed to break the cycle. 

“Anakin’s rival was the Padawan of one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends,” The heavy gaze switched to Boba, “He saw the darkness in Anakin no one else did. He saw his arrogance, his flaws, and Anakin hated him for it. He left his rival to die on a mission once. If Obi-Wan and his friend hadn’t arrived in time to rescue him…”

The younger boy defiantly kept his head up, meeting the older Master’s gaze as he continued, “The two of them were sent with two other Padawans on a mission. One’s lightsaber broke and he asked Anakin’s rival to fix it. Consumed with jealousy, Anakin didn’t tell him about the modifications he made to the weapon beforehand.”

Boba could see where this was going. They all could, but no one dared interrupt, “They were attacked, and the lightsaber failed in combat. One of the Padawans lost their life protecting its wielder. Anakin’s rival left the Order because he felt it was his fault. He didn’t even come back for his Master’s funeral…”

In one story, jealousy led to betrayal and death. In the other, another form of betrayal and death. His father walked away because they were expecting him to choose. Korkie wanted him to put Boba in his place. Boba wanted him to agree he was weaker. He could see why he retreated.

Choosing one was condemning the other. 

“Of course,” Feemor spread his hands, “You two are completely different, aren’t you?”

His face burned with shame, because they weren’t. He glanced at Boba, who was now trying to melt the wall with his glare. Boba was dangerous, apathetic, unsociable...he tried to look past that. He was kind to the troopers. He joked with Ahsoka. He listened to his father. No matter what training was like, he always showed up to watch the holodrama afterwards with them.

He was too young to be evil.

“I’ll stop calling you Dorkie,” Boba said through clenched teeth, “If you stop treating me like a criminal.”

He hated war. Boba had every vice his mother told him came with violence. But he was the one who got him out of prison. He was the one who offered him the place here. What did it say about him that he couldn’t treat him with respect when he liberated him?

“Alright,” He accepted gratefully. He took a few steps closer and extended a hand, “You belong here as much as I do. We’re equals.”

The kid stared at his hand, before grasping it, “You’ve got a long way to go before we’re equals.”

He narrowed his eyes, “I’m getting better.”

“You are,” Boba agreed, and he couldn’t help the internal relief that his improvement wasn’t just in his head, “I don’t...hate you, Korkie.”

“I don’t hate you either,” He said easily.

It was a starting place. They were different people, with different ideas about the future of Mandalore. But they weren’t enemies. 

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Feemor sighed.

It wasn’t quite settled. They weren’t Jedi. They didn’t have years of experience in letting go of their emotions. 

They weren’t friends yet, much less brothers, but they still had the chance to be if they worked for it. He still didn’t think he was jealous, but if animosity led his father to such pain, then he could control his. 

They were young. They could still change.

It wasn’t too late for them.

***********************************

Anakin was surprised when his new comm beeped.

He desperately wanted this to happen, but as he answered it and the holo of Obi-Wan appeared, he didn’t know what to say. He thought he should start with an apology. Then he saw his former Master’s face, and asked the question that worried him for the past month, “Are you okay?”

The Jedi Master sat with his back rigidly straight. It was obvious something was wrong, “I’m not sure.”

Which was better than his outright lie of fine. He settled into a chair, “What’s wrong?”

“Have you ever felt like we’re running in circles?” Obi-Wan asked. 

That didn’t sound positive. He frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” His brother looked down, “I thought taking in Korkie and Boba was the right decision-”

“It was the right decision,” He affirmed, “They need you.”

“Just like you needed me?” The older man wondered.

Anakin flinched, then took a deep breath. Obi-Wan was struggling. Master Plo stopped by a few days ago to tell him his replacement was Master Feemor, Qui-Gon’s other surviving Padawan. He didn’t know anything about the man, but it wasn’t a good thing he was there. A stressed out Obi-Wan was a blunt Obi-Wan. 

It wasn’t his fault the truth was so hurtful.

“I need you,” He answered solemnly, “I know I’ve said otherwise, but I never meant it. You were-you are a great Master.” One day, his forrmer Master would believe him, “Now what’s this really about?”

“Korkie and Boba are jealous of each other,” His best friend revealed, “It’s starting to affect their training.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “Of course they’re jealous of each other. I can’t imagine two more different children, and you’re training them for the same position.”

“A friendly rivalry is one thing, but this…” Obi-Wan sighed, “It feels like history repeating itself.”

His amusement died, “Boba knows you won’t forgive him if he gets anyone killed.”

The unlike me went unspoken. His former Master forgave him a host of sins. He forgave him after he abandoned Ferus. He didn’t push him away when he thought about leaving after Darra’s death. He was quiet for a few months after Ferus left, but his training continued no differently than before. He wasn’t sure if Master Siri ever forgave him. 

“And Korkie is you and Satine’s kid. I don’t think giving up is in his DNA,” He added jokingly, mentally reminding himself to talk to Bant about these memories. 

Obi-Wan seemed to consider his words, which was nice. He was happy his words still held weight with him. Then he sighed, “What is the point of jealousy?”

Luckily, this was something he discussed at length with Bant, “There is no jealousy without entitlement.”

When one felt like they were owed, or owned, something, it was easy to be jealous when they saw another with it. He was jealous of Ferus because he felt entitled to Obi-Wan’s time. He felt possessive over his teachings. He envied the other boy for his skill, and for how skilled he was at seeing him without the bias of affection.

So he lashed out.

He got jealous over Padme because he felt she belonged to him and him alone. All of her. But that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She had a past, others in her life who held an equal claim to her time and love. 

Yet he lashed out again when faced with that reality. 

“You’ve never felt yourself deserving of anything,” He continued gently, “So how could you ever be jealous?”

Even when Qui-Gon cast him aside and showed an interest in his best friend, Obi-Wan never got jealous. He would have been happy for his friend in time.

“Just talk to them,” He advised, “The past doesn’t always repeat itself.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan acknowledged, then looked away, “Ah, I have to go. I’m glad to see you looking better.”

“I feel better,” He smiled, “Call me soon?”

“I will,” His Master promised, “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” He returned.

If the past was bound to repeat itself, he would be Xanatos, wouldn’t he? The boy found by Qui-Gon Jinn. Too old, too arrogant, but trained due to the stubbornness of his Master. A Master who loved him too much to see when his arrogance turned to cruelty, how not being raised in the Temple led to bitterness and resentment against the Order.

Then a female relative died the first time he returned home and he did something terrible. Except he didn’t have a father to persuade him to stay on the wrong path. 

“Skywalker,” Master Windu walked into the room, “The Chancellor is here to see you.”

Did he?

He managed a smile, “Political pressure?”

“Don’t tell him anything that would interfere in our investigation,” The Master of the Order narrowed his eyes.

Since he began his seclusion in the Jedi Temple, he hadn’t felt any urge to see Palpatine. It was probably for the best. The Chancellor always made him feel better after his many fuckups. He always turned his anger towards the Jedi Order, or Obi-Wan, or someone else. Never him. Never where it belonged.

Not anymore. He needed to take responsibility for himself. What he did was on him. Perhaps the Jedi Order was rigid, but they were only so strict because their power needed to be controlled. No one should have the freedom to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted without listening to the opinions of others. 

Being the Chosen One didn’t make him more important than everyone else.

Neither did being the Chancellor. 

Though, with the way the winds were turning, Palpatine might not be Chancellor for much longer.

He could get through one conversation without fucking up too much. Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not flattering myself when I say I'm not the jealous or resentful type, but the jealousy of others has hurt me a lot throughout my life. I sort of hit a wall writing this because of that. 
> 
> As we approach the holidays I'll try to update quicker. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this!


	11. Fathers and Mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is a choice. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [jest_tal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jest_tal/pseuds/jest_tal) for inspiring the first part of the chapter!

Feemor heard all the stories about Obi-Wan Kenobi. How could he not? He was the most impressive Jedi in centuries. He was the first to defeat a Sith in millennia. He found the clone army and the droid army. His capture was the beginning of a war that looked as though it would last years and reshape the galaxy.

He heard all those things, and wondered what happened to the rebellious boy who left the Order to fight in a war. The boy whose name was only whispered, often accompanied with a suspicious look. Padawan Kenobi was trouble, they used to say. He would never be a knight. They couldn’t believe he was allowed to stay after killing in the Temple. 

It all changed with Qui-Gon’s death. 

Without Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan was so much better.

It was hard to accept. Yes, his own relationship with his Master was strained in the wake of Xanatos’ betrayal. They both needed time to process it. When he heard about Obi-Wan, he was relieved Qui-Gon was putting the past in the past. 

He kept his distance when he heard about Bandomeer. They didn’t need any more reminders of the past, nor did he feel prepared to answer any of his youngest brother’s questions about Xanatos. Then Melida/Daan happened, and he stayed away. Who was he to intervene in a matter between Master and Padawan? What help could he be to either?

Xanatos died not too long after that. He killed himself. Feemor didn’t want to admit it, but he mourned the loss of the boy he’d once been. Qui-Gon found closure in his death, but for him it tore the wound open again. 

Master Tahl died not too long after that. He knew he should have reached out then. Obi-Wan’s best friend was Master Tahl’s Padawan. The boy wasn’t quite sixteen yet. He wasn’t equipped to deal with his grieving best friend and his heartbroken Master. He knew Qui-Gon would be in a vulnerable place, his desire for revenge at odds with his connection to the Force…

But Qui-Gon was stubborn in his grief. Trying to reach out to him after Xanatos got him pushed away in the first place. He kept an eye on the situation, but didn’t interfere.

Qui-Gon didn’t cross the line, so he assumed everything was alright.

After that, Obi-Wan was a senior Padawan. He was able to go on more difficult missions. They were seldom all at the Temple at the same time. He did manage to meet up with Qui-Gon, occasionally Dooku, but Obi-Wan was always training or in the archives or off with his friends. He never tried to message him directly, nor received any correspondence from him.

They were brothers in name only. 

The first time Obi-Wan ever reached out to him was to inform him of Qui-Gon’s death. 

Dooku blamed the Order. He blamed the Council for being arrogant, for not listening to Qui-Gon about the Sith. He placed his death solely on them. The frustration that had been building in his Grandmaster finally burst forth. Within days, he returned to Serenno. Within a week, he was no longer a Jedi but a Count. 

Feemor blamed Obi-Wan. 

Even for a Jedi, Obi-Wan was exceptional at putting aside his emotions. 

In hindsight, he knew Obi-Wan was grieving just as fiercely as him, but on the call he seemed so calm. It wasn’t as though he had ever met him. How was he to know he wasn’t proud about being named a Sithslayer? How was he to know his perfect posture was ingrained into him and not a sign of disaffection? He didn’t know him at all.

In hindsight, he knew Obi-Wan forced himself to stay strong because there was a child depending on him. Unlike him, Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to fall apart. If they’d grieved the same way, Anakin Skywalker would have been taken out of his custody with no guarantee another Knight or Master would train him. 

He didn’t say anything after Obi-Wan told him. 

He didn’t say anything to him at the memorial. 

All he saw was Obi-Wan smiling at a little boy, and he decided to stay away.

Over drinks with his friends, he said some unkind things. He brought up the old rumors of his inadequacy. He stopped after a few years, but then he found out third hand about Xanatos’ son, who Obi-Wan killed. And they were back to square one.

Feemor had a million excuses, but what haunted him was how wrong he’d been. 

The 501st liked him. They commiserated about betrayal and its aftereffects. They talked about Anakin’s past actions as a General, all the times his men thought about challenging him but didn’t. He ensured there was a way for them to make their voices heard under his command. They understood he wasn’t a General, that he would depend on them as much as they depended on him.

A large part of their confidence in him came from Cody’s obvious lack of it. There wouldn’t be any toes to step on if one of his men had a complaint, and it was obvious who the Marshall Commander would side with. 

Cody wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t there for Obi-Wan, even when he knew he was struggling.

He didn’t think Qui-Gon would leave the damage he did. He thought they would have similar apprenticeships. He thought Qui-Gon would be warm, and funny, and guide the student he made a vow to teach. He saw Obi-Wan’s rise in repute and rank as a reflection of Qui-Gon’s good mentoring. 

The door slid shut behind him as Obi-Wan said goodbye to his first Padawan.

“I think we need to talk,” He started.

“Now we need to talk?” Obi-Wan replied coldly. 

“That’s unfair,” He said, “If I’d known you needed me…”

“I didn’t need you,” His little brother wouldn’t look at him.

“Then why do you resent me so much?” He asked, “If it’s about Qui-Gon…”

“What would you know?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, “You were only ever around Qui-Gon when he was happy. You two got along so well-”

He laughed, “Did you know he stopped referring to me as his Padawan after Xanatos?” His little brother turned away, “It’s not comparable to how he mistreated you, but we didn’t get along at times.” 

Obi-Wan’s stubborn frown softened slightly, “I don’t make it a habit to speak ill of the dead.”

“Maybe he deserves it,” Feemor pressed.

“Maybe?” His little brother lifted an eyebrow, his expression clearing more, “You really had no idea what was happening, did you?”

“I know some, now,” He took a seat, certain he wouldn’t be thrown out, “The men talk.”

Obi-Wan considered him, “I thought...Reeft overheard you…you hate me.”

Maybe he had. 

“Those were the words of an ignorant man,” He promised, “I’m sorry I ever said them.”

“It’s not like others weren’t saying the same,” The High General muttered, “I wasn’t good enough for a lot of people. Too slow, too stupid, too arrogant-”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Feemor half-heartedly scolded, “You’re the best of us.”

Another bitter laugh, “That depends on what you value in a Jedi.”

“A Jedi is a light in the dark,” He quoted, “The last line of defense for the defenseless, the hope for the hopeless.”

The measure of a Jedi was not their strength in the Force, nor their wisdom from their pursuit of knowledge. A Jedi should be in tune with their surroundings and able to act. They shouldn’t turn away from a battle, whether it be political or physical. They must always stand against darkness, no matter how far it spread.

“Who said that?” Obi-Wan asked.

His heart sank, “Qui-Gon did.”

“Ah,” He cringed, “And here I thought he would hate me for leading a war.”

“He’d have to hate both of us now,” Feemor reminded him.

Obi-Wan waved a hand at him, “You’re here because the Council forced you to-”

“Wrong,” He interrupted again, “Obi-Wan, I’m here because I want to be here. I’ve already said that. I want to support you as I should. Maybe the Council thought I would be a good influence on you, but when have they ever known what’s best?”

“So you support the war?” His brother wondered, “Even if it’s against Dooku?”

He flinched, “Dooku is...misguided. I can’t say he’s wrong, but I can’t agree with his methods.”

Obi-Wan hummed, “He said Qui-Gon would have joined him.”

He thought about his Grandmaster and Master. His younger brother knew such different versions of them. He only knew Qui-Gon after Xanatos, and Dooku after he Fell. He didn’t underestimate what either were capable of. As much as he wanted to deny that Qui-Gon would be a Separatist...he definitely wouldn’t have sided with the Republic. 

“I support you,” He decided to avoid responding to the statement, “Someone needs to remind the Senate and the Chancellor they are democratically elected. If they don’t meet their people’s needs, then they should expect a response.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, “You really aren’t like Qui-Gon at all.”

Was that a compliment?

He just shrugged, “I don’t think the universe could handle another Qui-Gon Jinn.”

***********************************

There was no convincing Anakin he was a prisoner of the Jedi. 

Stoking his fears for his former Padawan and Master failed as well. 

Palpatine looked into his mind and found his faith in Obi-Wan Kenobi stronger than ever. There were no lingering doubts or annoyances. Whatever had changed when Kenobi became Mand’alor changed their relationship. He didn’t think hinting there was something between Kenobi and Amidala would be enough to break it.

The existence of a love child between Kenobi and the Duchess of Mandalore also dampened that plan.

The Death Watch was quickly becoming a thorn in his side. The war needed to stretch farther, envelop more systems, and it couldn’t do that with neutrality as a viable option. The systems that should have been pressured into picking a side by the military presences on the major trade routes and the criminals on the minor ones could get the protection they needed through both. 

Pirates were no match for fully trained Mandalorians. 

And while neutral forces weren’t officially allowed behind military lines, with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s status as both Jedi High Councilor and Mand’alor, no one in the Republic stopped them. 

The Separatists didn’t either.

Dooku claimed he could not convince his Senate to risk angering Mandalore. His traitorous apprentice was waiting for him to assert his control over the Republic Senate before he forced his to do anything.

He laughed derisively at the topic put before him, “I refuse to consider an idea that would weaken the Republic.”

“Would it weaken the Republic?” Bail Organa’s pod descended, “To show we can have a successful transition of power during a war would only strengthen us. It would prove we are not dependent on our Supreme Chancellor. Not the same way the Separatists are dependent on Count Dooku.”

This upstart was an imminent threat. Killing him was too obvious and too difficult. His friends within the Jedi Order visited him with no regular pattern so using the Force too obviously would be sensed. He continually survived every mission he was sent on with a tenacity that rivalled Kenobi. 

And with his campaign to be the next Chancellor, opportunities to kill him decreased.

He glared anyways, “What if the Separatists interfere with our election?”

“Then why have we voted on anything since the war started?” Organa replied, “Or do you have such little faith in your own colleagues, Chancellor, that we would elect someone we had suspicion of being a Separatist sympathizer?”

It felt like he was always on the backfoot in debates.

It was difficult to argue against a democracy functioning as it should. His base was solid in their support, and he controlled most of the mainstream media. There were many who hesitated to change who was in charge during a crisis, but he was by no measure popular. He didn’t stir the masses the way Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa did every time they opened their mouths. 

They were young, handsome, and good. So good it burned to think about.

There was nothing to threaten Bail Organa with. He didn’t have any children. His only family was through his wife, who was Queen of Alderaan. If he thought it was hard to kill Bail Organa on Coruscant, it was impossible to kill the royal family on their own planet. Their security was too good for an assassination to happen without sending Dooku.

Alderaan was a core world. Organizing a gap in their defenses large enough for it to be attacked wouldn’t go unnoticed. 

Then more people would support him. An attack on Alderaan would make him look ineffective and give Organa sympathy. It would be the same situation that allowed him to unseat Chancellor Valorum.

He cursed himself for ordering Ventress’ death. She was growing too powerful, but she was an assassin. Perfect for the situation he found himself in. 

“A transition is a vulnerable period nonetheless,” He argued.

Bail Organa shook his head, “Why do we fight this war?” He appealed to the masses, “Is it about control or justice? I have always thought we fought for justice. We fight for what is good and right in this universe. We fight for democracy, for the precepts on which this Republic was built. To delay a vote...if there is no vote, how can we call ourselves a democracy?”

“And if we are no longer a democracy, if we have already lost in the fight against tyranny…” He shook his head, “Why do we fight this war?”

“Are you calling me a tyrant?” He demanded.

The Senator from Alderaan lifted his pod until they were on the same level, “It is natural for those who are afraid to seek power. I am running for Chancellor because I am afraid to lose more to this war than we already have under your leadership. But you, Chancellor Palpatine, fear powerlessness. You fear insignificance.”

He had only feared one man in his life, and he killed him in his sleep.

It would be so easy to reach out and crush this fool’s throat or his mind. The Dark Side whispered to bring him to his knees in agony. He barely stopped lightning from crackling on his fingertips. It would be so easy to kill him, but he needed to exercise restraint.

Revealing himself as a Sith would make him the fool. 

“So you cling to your seat, you hide behind the emergency powers granted to you when we thought this war would be short, because without them you are just a man,” Bail Organa lifted his hands, “But you forget the very premise upon which the Chancellorship exists. The Chancellor should act with the best interest of the Republic at heart.”

“I do,” He interjected, “I have given my life in service to the Republic, to democracy.”

“Then serve it,” The upstart stared him down, “We set clear term limits in our constitution. If you serve democracy, step down.”

Kenobi needed to die. 

All of this was Kenobi’s fault.

He left the Senate meeting as soon as it descended into chaos again. 

At least Anakin had been useful for some information. Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t as invulnerable as he made himself out to be. The Council wasn’t pleased with his actions. They replaced Anakin with Feemor, who supposedly did not trust Kenobi. Boba Fett and Korkie Kryze also did not trust each other.

Where there was room for doubt, there was room for betrayal. 

He went back to his office and poured over reports. There had to be an assignment that would hurt him. There had to be something he could use to hurt him. 

He found a plan still in the making. Another assault on Umbara.

It was perfect.

Fear truly did drive people to seek power. They wanted to protect themselves, protect others, and they didn’t care what that power was as long as it was enough. 

He just needed to find a general he could make afraid enough to seek Dooku’s power.

***********************************

Satine scrutinized the faces of the two boys before her. She catalogued every change with her son. He’d put on more muscle in the mere months away. Some of his youthful confidence was gone, but it was replaced with experience. The innocence was wiped from his eyes, but not the hope. He slowly turned around so she could examine the paint job on his armor.

She was torn between pride and fear. 

“What do you think, Mother?” Korkie asked. His eyes, Ben’s eyes, revealed how much and how little he cared for her answer.

There was so much unsaid between them, but she knew better than to press. Commander Cody sent her written reports on his progress every week. He might not want to talk to her the way he used to, but he had a sister now. And a father. He even had an aunt and uncle on his war ship. There was so much support she almost wept. 

It was so different for her and Ben, who were so often alone. 

“You look like a Mando’ad,” She said, her voice thick with emotion, “How does it feel?”

“Surprisingly light,” Her son answered, swinging his arms around, “Though I suppose it doesn’t have much weaponry built in yet.”

The tear widened. She always hoped her son would never have to pick up a weapon, but it would be natural to him. How could it not? Neither herself nor Ben were bad in a fight. Her people followed her lead in casting aside their weapons and armor because they understood how much they meant to her. They didn’t think it was weakness or cowardice.

They understood she wouldn’t throw away part of her soul if it weren’t out of necessity.

Perhaps that was why the news of her deception didn’t receive much backlash from Mandalore. She already gave up so much for her people, what was her husband and son? What was another piece of her happiness? 

“We don’t want you blowing yourself up,” Boba Fett commented. If he weren’t so tense, it would almost be teasing.

The younger boy’s armor was plainer, but it was temporary. Jango Fett’s armor was safely stored away for his future use. Considering he was a clone, there likely wouldn’t be any need for adjustments or reforgery. One day, it would fit him perfectly. 

But he wasn’t another Jango Fett, another child of war left adrift. 

Neither of them would be alone.

“Hey,” Her son warned, but it didn’t dampen his smile, “You don’t think it’s too much white? Fives said I could pass for a member of the 501st.”

“The style is too different to ever pass for a trooper’s,” She assured him, “The armorer did well.”

If it reminded her of her own armor, well, she wasn’t sure how her son would take that observation.

“I asked them to make it similar to yours,” Korkie revealed hesitantly.

“You honor me,” She replied instinctively, “But would you not rather honor your father?”

Wasn’t he angry with her? Or was this some subtle revenge?

“I honor my father through my actions,” Her son said, “But you...my actions are not honorable in your eyes so this is the least I could do. I...you are my mother. You are as much a part of me as Father is.”

There was no such thing as a just war. Everyone always thought their cause was righteous enough to warrant the suffering of others, but war made criminals of those with the best intentions. The winner’s cause would be written down as the truly righteous one. The loser’s would be twisted until they could be rejected by all. 

Then it would be forgotten, making it easy for the next person unwilling to put effort into making long lasting changes able to start another war. And so it would go on and on until the warmongers destroyed themselves.

She held her tongue. Her son did well to stand by his father’s side in troubled times. She wasn’t much older than him when her father sent her away to learn diplomacy from more peaceful worlds. She didn’t see him again until his funeral, days before her coronation. She would prefer her son stay and learn from her...but she’d deprived him of his father long enough.

Besides, he was already in hell. She wouldn’t make it worse by starting an argument.

“Thank you,” She knew she took too long to respond, but she didn’t know what to say.

Boba cleared his throat, “Duchess, I have a...political question, if you could advise.”

She found herself softening before the younger boy’s awkward politeness. He was a little rough around the edges, but he would be a gem once polished. From Cody’s report, he was reluctant to acknowledge Ben as a father figure, but he’d never had a mother. Ever. She somehow doubted any Kaminoan provided a nurturing, maternal figure in his life. 

“You may call me Aunt, if you’d like,” She suggested.

It could be true. Bo-Katan might claim him for herself one of these days.

Though her sister wasn’t the maternal type. 

He ducked his head in embarrassment, “Aunt.”

“What is your question, child?” Satine leaned forward.

“Is Bail Organa trustworthy?” Boba asked, “Kenobi seems to trust him, but I don’t know what makes him so different from other politicians.”

His concern was endearing. She considered his question, “Ben met Bail Organa before he met me. In fact, it was the mission before Mandalore, and it was...terrible.”

“Isn’t everything in his life terrible?” Korkie wondered.

“There hasn’t been a form of suffering he hasn’t endured,” She paused, “Well, except for the loss of a child. So be careful.” The boys nodded, “Bail’s uncle went missing. Qui-Gon and Ben were sent to rescue him, but they were too late. He uncovered workers being worked to death on a nearby world, and was killed when he tried to help.”

“They burnt his body and put it on display as a warning to anyone else who dared challenge their profits,” She sighed, “Ben had nightmares of that mission, even when he was with me. The murderers got off with just a fine, you see, and it haunted him. It haunted Bail as well, but instead of getting revenge, he spent his life changing the systems that got his uncle killed.”

“Maybe he just didn’t like his uncle,” Boba crossed his arms.

“His mother died six month after his uncle’s funeral,” She grimaced, “Most agreed she died from grief.”

“Oh,” The younger boy bit his lip, “So he’s legit.”

“He’s legit,” She agreed patiently. She supposed the only politicians Ben trusted were ones with tragic backstories that nearly matched his own, “Ben took him to a Sith Temple and it didn’t affect him at all, if you’re curious about that as well. Bail isn’t Force-sensitive.”

It didn’t surprise her the Sith Master was closer than they anticipated. The darkest shadows were closest to the light. There was only so much the Jedi could investigate independently. It was crucial for Bail to become Chancellor so they could properly investigate the Trade Federation and any under the table deals Palpatine had engaged in.

The children should be worried they didn’t accidentally support someone worse.

Boba nodded, “And we can’t just put a hit on Palpatine to get rid of him? Clear the way?”

“No,” She wished politics were so simple, “If it fails, he will only gain more support. If it succeeds, his cause will only gain more support and one of his sycophants will gain power.”

The child scowled, “So he can have his opponents killed but we can’t.”

“That is the struggle of the moral high-ground,” She fought back a smile. There was no evidence of Palpatine paying for his political enemies dying. There was just a disturbing pattern of deaths that benefited him. 

“I thought the high-ground was supposed to be advantageous,” Boba muttered. 

“It’s certainly much more secure,” She actually smiled this time, “What if someone found out later who paid for the hit? Sharing financial records is common in politics. Or what if the bounty hunter gets captured and exchanges information on former clients for their freedom?”

“That would be terrible for business,” The former bounty hunter pointed out, “Snitches get stitches.”

She laughed, “It is very different for politicians. Our snitches are anonymous sources the media can use to tear us down, and they have plenty of protection.”

The adorable confused frown was back, “How do you use the media? Do you pay them?”

Satine shook her head, “Remember, not sharing financial records is suspicious, and you, little one, need not worry about the media. They do not write about children.”

“But shouldn’t I do something?” He wondered.

“I’ve been trying to teach him politics,” Korkie supplied.

“Ah,” She sat back in her seat, “Ben hates politics.”

Knowing all these questions were him fully stepping into his role made answering his questions easier. She made a mental note to organize an interview for him. Something light and local. Ben hadn’t yet asked him about the Cuy’val Dar, but it would help if he was firmly established on Mandalore first. Technically, as Ben’s foundling she could introduce him as her adopted son.

She said as much and watched him freeze.

“It can just be an official position within my clan,” She clarified, “As Ben’s foundling, you are a Mando’ad. As mine, you will be a citizen of Mandalore.”

“But…you two aren’t married,” Boba said.

“You know we are a people of feeling, not ceremony,” Satine smoothed the skirt of her dress.

“I’ve never had a mother,” His voice got quieter, smaller, “Not really.”

Suddenly, she remembered the details surrounding his arrest. After Jango Fett’s death, Boba was taken in by Aurra Sing. Perhaps he looked to her as a mother, but she only used him to strike at the Republic. She encouraged his revenge, used his pain for her own profit, and when she found he wasn’t the weapon she needed, she abandoned him.

He didn’t fear the same with Ben, but Ben was so easy to trust. 

She was colder, harsher. She didn’t bend, not for the love of her life, not for her sister. It was much easier to imagine her abandoning him.

She was much less suited to motherhood than Ben was to fatherhood. 

“It is your decision,” She decided.

If he didn’t trust her, this was meaningless. If he didn’t want her, then it was what she deserved.

“Ah,” He glanced at her son, “Korkie?”

The teenager considered the unasked question. She rejected the title of mother for the child she bore, what right did she have to claim another child? It would be insulting for Korkie, who was unacknowledged nearly his entire life, to suddenly have an adopted brother. It was an insult she herself could never forgive. 

But he wasn’t just her son. He was Ben’s child as well. 

“I want us to be equals,” Korkie answered slowly, “Mother taught me everything about our history and politics. It would be unfair to deprive you the same.”

“A teacher isn’t a mother,” Boba pointed out.

“A mother is many things,” Her son countered, “Including a teacher.”

“Would you even want me as your son?” The youngest looked back at her, “I was a bounty hunter. They threw me in prison for a reason.”

“It is your decision,” She repeated, “I have no opposition. I killed people when I was your age. So did Ben. Everyone can change if they choose to, and I sense you are trying to be better.”

“What is with you people?” Boba muttered.

“You don’t have to make a decision today. We barely know each other beyond our reputations,” Satine met his gaze carefully, “And I’d understand if you refuse.”

Boba surprised her by bowing, “It would be an honor.”

“Stand straight, Boba Fett,” He obeyed nervously, obviously surprised at the use of his full name. She smiled, “I know your name, as my son.” His eyes widened, “I will be here to listen to your sorrows and share in your triumphs. You may depend on me.”

Korkie beamed, and slowly, the younger boy smiled as well. 

She took in the sight of her two sons. Both of them warriors. She still felt torn between pride and fear, but she could not control them. She couldn’t force them to be what she wanted. 

“We’ll come to visit soon,” Korkie promised.

“I’ve already requested Ahsoka as a Jedi presence at the next peace talks,” Satine revealed in turn, “They are still weeks away, but you may accompany her.”

“And Father?” Her older son asked, “Can he come?”

“We’ll talk before then,” If they were now co-parenting two children, they would have to. 

Hopefully, it would go as well as this did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Korkie: I want to call my mother.  
> Boba: Okay...?  
> Korkie: Can you stay with me?  
> Boba: Why would I do that?  
> Korkie: You can ask her about assassinations  
> Boba, who just stared PoliSci and doesn't get why you can't just kill fascists: Deal
> 
> Lol, sorry for the filler chapter. Umbara is up next!


	12. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes no amount of training can prepare you for reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to delete the first version of this to fix something! Hopefully it didn't bother anyone!

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Boba scowled at Rex, “Kenobi said to take the airbase.”

“That was when we had General Feemor and Ahsoka,” The Captain crossed his arms.

“It’s still the plan,” He crossed his arms and scowled right back.

Besides, Ahsoka and Feemor were called away at the request of Chancellor Palpatine. He claimed the reason for the request was Senator Amidala’s familiarity with the Padawan, but he called bullshit. If Mon Cala was hard, Umbara was impossible. They needed the best of the best, which was their family. Separating them was stupid.

He was pretty sure this was Palpatine’s attempt to kill all of them, but apparently there wasn’t any evidence for that. And if there was, well, nothing would happen anyways because politics.

If something bad happened to anyone he would assassinate the Chancellor himself, political repercussions be damned. Technically, it would just be murder since he didn’t have a political reason to kill him, just a personal one.

Part of him was tempted to take a transport and join the 212th’s assault on the capitol, but he didn’t trust any Jedi besides Kenobi and Ahsoka. Feemor had potential, but this was supposed to show him if the older Jedi was trustworthy. That would now have to wait until the next dangerous mission.

But he stayed.

He’d heard about General Pong Krell. While watching Cody teach Korkie about strategies, the Besalisk came up repeatedly. He’d never lost a battle, but his casualties were borderline unacceptable. He scowled fiercer. They were perfectly acceptable to the Republic who saw clones as cannon fodder, living, breathing weapons for them to use as they liked.

Kenobi promised him they would push the issue of Clones’ Rights as soon as Organa was elected Chancellor. It couldn’t come up during the election process. Palpatine would use it to stir fear in the hearts of other Senators. He’d say if they gave the clones rights, they could choose to stop fighting. They could leave the Republic defenseless.

After all, there weren’t many in the Republic willing to actually fight for it. Just like the Separatists.

The war would be over a lot faster if both armies just stopped fighting. How quickly would the warmongers change their tune when it was their voters dying instead of an exploitable group? Then again, from what his new mother said, armies would be drawn from a different exploitable population, like the poor or the uneducated, so maybe they wouldn’t care.

His disgust for politics grew with every lesson. There were too many leaders who asked more of their constituents than they were willing to do themselves. He liked Bail Organa, but after about five stories of almost dying in various shitholes how couldn’t he like him? He even liked that friend of his, Mon Mothma. She was sneaky as fuck, but passive aggressive in a way he could appreciate.

Everyone else needed to step up or shut up.

And yes, that included the Jedi, who shouldn’t even be political figures.

A new transport descended, and the men all rose to attention. He stayed lounging against his chosen tree, glowering at it. He fiddled with the hilt of his lightsaber.

“He’s still a Jedi, Boba,” Dogma commented, “They value all life.”

“Dooku was a Jedi at one point,” He muttered, “Ventress was trained by a Jedi.”

They weren’t infallible. If anything, having Skywalker as a General opened them up to that idea.

And yes, he still hated a good majority of the Jedi.

Krell was rude from the start, and he didn’t get any better when he saw him standing there. Two sets of arms crossed, “You were to return to the 212th, child.”

He lifted his chin defiantly, “I didn’t want to unnecessarily risk lives with a transport. I can safely travel to Kenobi when we’ve taken the air base.”

“I’m not here to babysit you,” Krell scowled.

“Good thing I’m not a baby,” Boba replied, “I can hold my own, General.”

“But can you follow orders?” The Besalisk wondered derisively, “You aren’t a typical clone.”

His temper flared, but he thought about what Korkie would do. As much as he wanted to fire a shot into his smug face, he was technically an ally. This needed to be handled tactfully, so he made his face stone, “Kenobi trusts my judgment on the battlefield.”

Always remind condescending assholes exactly who you’re connected to. They might not care about him, but no one angered Kenobi or the Duchess needlessly.

“I don’t want rogue elements messing with my plans,” Krell scoffed.

“War is chaos. If your plans don’t leave room for adaptation, they’re bad plans.”

Don’t be intimidated or talked down to. If they try to act like they know better, make a point that they don’t.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” The new Jedi drew closer.

“What are you going to do?” He challenged, “I’m not a soldier. I can’t be insubordinate. I’m a Mando’ad.”

Kenobi was his superior. Anyone else who acted like they had power over him needed to be reminded they didn’t, not unless Kenobi gave it to them.

Krell walked away, leaving him on his own. He put his helmet on and scanned the horizon for heat signatures. His presence didn’t deter the asshole from being an asshole to everyone else. Every few minutes on their march towards the airbase he said something. He honestly couldn’t remember what because if he did, he would try to kill him.

“Keep marching, clone!”

Rex gritted his teeth, “All due respect, General, but the men need a break, sir. We can’t continue at this pace.”

“The entire invasion depends on our reaching and taking that airbase, clone, there is no time for a break.”

“Haste makes waste, General,” He commented in his best impersonation of Kenobi and Korkie’s tone, “Do you think we’ll successfully take the base exhausted?”

“I expect them to do as I say,” Krell turned to glare at him.

Boba rolled his eyes behind his helmet, “Perhaps your expectations are reasonable if this were a mission of other Jedi. Regrettably, we don’t have the Force to sustain us.”

“Feel free to take a break, child. We’ll leave you behind.”

“Have fun explaining that to Kenobi.”

“Kenobi understands that a Jedi can’t be burdened with sentiment.”

His hand twitched to his blaster at the threat. The Order wouldn’t kick out their best member. Kenobi was twice the Jedi this sleemo could ever be.

“What’s your plan to take the airbase?” He demanded instead. He gave pretty words his best shot, but they weren’t his strong point. He was better at being blunt and threatening.

“That is none of your concern,” He non-answered.

“That’s Jedi speak for frontal assault,” Boba concluded, “The terrain won’t allow for us to navigate the heavy artillery. Not without sticking to the paths. If we stick to the paths, we will be ambushed, so we should assume we won’t have anything to get through their shields-”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You can’t order me to shut up,” He nonetheless backed down.

Krell obviously wasn’t interested in being allies. Kenobi told him sometimes they would have to work with unsavory people, and it always made him feel slimy, but he also advised him to leave if he felt unsafe. He may not have the Force, but he had good instincts. Krell was more likely to stab him in the back than guard it.

So he needed to leave. He was better off away.

He fell in step right behind Rex and switched to Mando’a, “If I stay here any longer, I am going to kill him. I don’t trust his competency.”

“Don’t be rash,” The Captain replied in kind.

“I’m going to scout their defenses, find a weakness we can exploit,” He kept his tone harsh, “I won’t go far alone, but you’ll have to find a way to send a team to me.”

Maybe a few weeks ago, he would have tried this alone, but he’d seen what the troopers were capable of. They wouldn’t get in his way, and if there was anything he had to prove to Kenobi, it was his ability to work well with others.

Last time, he ended up alone with Prince Lee-Char. He’d rather avoid that if he could.

“What are you muttering about back there?” Krell demanded.

“Still wondering what your plan is for taking the airbase,” He raised his voice, “Of course, what could we simple clones possibly think of that could compare to such a renowned-”

“Save your sarcasm for Kenobi,” The Besalisk interrupted again, “He’s much better at it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” He snapped, “We aren’t enemies. We’re allies. If we’re to fight together, you should tell me how you expect to do so.”

“I don’t expect to do so,” Krell glowered, “I expect you to stay out of the way.”

“Then maybe I should have gone to the capitol,” With that, he made to leave.

Fives grabbed his shoulder, “It’s dangerous to go alone.”

“I just need to clear my head,” He growled, slipping a tracker to him. He activated his jetpack after pushing him away. He couldn’t fly too high, what with the enemy potentially anywhere, but he’d been practising. Kenobi once flew a starfighter inside a ship and survived. He could get through this cursed fog without crashing into anything.

Krell was leading them to their deaths.

So he would just have to increase their odds of survival.

***********************************

Krell was insufferable, but even he understood it wouldn’t look good for him to have allowed the actual child to run off alone in a warzone.

Fives knew the second Boba ran off that they were going to try to take the airbase by themselves. Or, at least, take down the shield so a frontal assault would have a snowball's chance in hell of making it. It was what Skywalker and Tano would do if they were still together and here.

With the lack of trustworthy Jedi, they’d have to do with Boba and his prodigious talent.

Well, and his lightsaber, which they were all surprised to see light up in the dark.

“Where did you get that?” Kix demanded sternly.

“Relax,” Boba rolled his eyes, “Kenobi gave me and Korkie the lightsabers he isn’t using. It’s some weird training exercise.”

General Kenobi only had two lightsabers he wasn’t using. Fives narrowed his eyes at the one in the kid’s hand, “You got General Kenobi’s old one?”

Weird. He thought if one of the two boys should carry Skywalker’s, it would be Boba.

“I’m supposed to work on my patience,” The kid muttered.

“How’s that going?” Hardcase wondered.

He got another eye roll for his efforts, “Let’s hurry. The airbase needs to go down.”

They walked in vigilant silence. It left Fives with too much time to think. Krell was insufferable and callous, but he did make a point. The Jedi weren’t supposed to get attached. He’d gotten used to working with the ones who could care without attachment. Maybe it was hard for Krell to do the same.

People died in war, why get close if he’s just going to lose them?

But isolation in war...what was it Kenobi said? It was just as likely to lead to falling as becoming too attached?

Krell couldn’t be a Sith. He was just burnt out and needed time away from the front lines to center himself.

Still, his words were unnecessarily harsh. It wasn’t like a Jedi to purposely inflict harm. Yet he listened, the disrespect and apathy to their lives echoing in their head. The only one who was treated as someone resembling a sentient was Boba.

“What do you think Krell meant, Boba?” He wondered.

“By what?” Boba snapped.

“You aren’t a typical clone,” He quoted.

He knew the obvious answer. Boba would actually have a long life, instead of the accelerated half-life of him and the other vod’e. He was raised by Jango Fett as a son rather than trained as a soldier.

Still, he was a clone. People like Krell didn’t usually make such a distinction.

“It’s just the aging, right?” Kix answered, “And Jango raising you, of course.”

The kid was quiet. It wasn’t unusual for Boba to be quiet, especially when they brought up his father. If anyone was going to talk about Jango with him, it should probably be someone who didn’t share his face. He expected the conversation to drop there. Maybe he could have a brother on Kamino look into it for him.

“Essentially,” Boba settled on, “And the inhibitor chips.”

“The what?” Hardcase asked.

“Inhibitor chips,” The kid repeated, “Brain implants. They’re supposed to make you more obedient and less...aggressive.”

The unlike him was implied. Fives considered the new information. While having something in his brain vaguely unsettled him, he could understand not wanting an army of Bobas. He was stubborn, belligerent, and took down a star destroyer in his rage after his father’s death. His father was known throughout the galaxy as the finest mercenary there ever was.

But how much of that was in their genes, and how much was due to their training?

The vod’e were supposed to all be the same, but their unique, individual experiences made them all different. If there were ever an argument for nurture over nature, it was them.

Did they even need the inhibitor chips? Would their personalities change without them?

“I’m surprised General Kenobi hasn’t mentioned them,” Jesse muttered.

“I’m not sure if the long-necks told him,” Boba shrugged.

“Can they be removed?” Kix asked.

They got another shrug from the kid.

“You didn’t know about them?” Fives frowned. If anyone should know about what’s in their heads, it should be the medic.

“I’ve never seen one on any scan,” Said medic mirrored his frown, “Then again, most neuro surgeries are handled by med-droids. Maybe they're programmed to avoid it?”

“Maybe,” Jesse agreed helplessly.

They didn’t know. Fives was pretty sure the Jedi would have done something if they knew as well, but the long-necks were surprisingly secretive at times. They understood that cloning was illegal before the start of the war. Maybe they kept the inhibitor chips secret so the Republic would feel more inclined to continue business with them.

Not everything had to have a sinister plot behind it, right?

There had to be people they could trust.

The airbase was in their sights, and it didn’t take long to find a weakness in its defenses. It was pretty straightforward from there. The Umbarans weren’t expecting their own ships to rise up and attack them from within. And with Boba’s lightsaber, taking the command tower was almost child’s play.

By the time they were able to send support to the rest of the 501st, he thought they might be able to pull this off, even with Krell technically in charge.

***********************************

Boba may have overestimated himself.

He curled into a ball next to the ship. He only had a few minutes before Krell found them, and he needed every second of it to pull himself back together.

Kenobi told them to take the airbase. They had.

No one told him to go blow up the command ship. He and Fives came up with that idea. He, Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase stole ships to go through with it, reenacting what Skywalker pulled on Naboo when he was nine.

Except they didn’t all make it out. Hardcase sacrificed himself to see the mission through.

The mission he’d put together and was in charge of.

Boba wanted a command of his own. He was smarter and better than most Jedi, especially the Padawans. He asked Kenobi to give him an assignment with a team to lead. He wanted to do this, make decisions, be a leader.

Ahsoka warned him it wasn’t easy to deal with being a commander. It was easier to follow orders than to give them, because the deaths that came on missions were then on him. She told him of the disaster of her first command. She nearly got Admiral Yularen killed. She lost half a squadron of fighters. She nearly gave up.

He thought she was just soft, but sitting here, having gotten someone killed…

He understood why she wanted to give up.

He wished she were here. Or Korkie...

“Kid,” Fives knelt in front of him, “General Krell's going to be here soon.”

Boba nodded, but couldn’t force himself to move.

“He’ll have us arrested for insubordination if you don’t stop him,” The ARC trooper continued, his voice firm, “We need you.”

Right. The mission wasn’t over yet. Kenobi wasn’t here to smooth things over. His father wasn’t here to make sure nothing bad happened. All these vod’e had was him.

He failed Hardcase.

He wouldn’t fail Fives and Jesse. He wouldn’t let them get sent back to Kamino. They might get killed if the long-necks thought they were too much trouble.

Jesse handed him his helmet, and he stuck it on. He managed to rise to his feet without collapsing just before the doors opened to the landing ground. Jesse and Fives naturally flanked him as he went to meet Krell.

“Where were you?” The Besalisk demanded.

Boba lifted his chin defiantly, “We destroyed the Separatist’s command ship.”

General Krell crossed his arms, “Where is the other clone?”

“Hardcase,” He stressed the name, “Died so the mission would succeed.”

“There was no mission,” The Jedi spat, “I will throw you in a cell if you continue to usurp me.”

“Do you really think Kenobi will care about orders?” He challenged, “The previous General of the 501st was General Skywalker, who was famed for his ingenuity. He didn’t sit back to be confined by orders. He didn’t hesitate when he could press his advantage. Was he ever reprimanded for it? No, because good soldiers do more than follow orders.”

“Skywalker is a brilliant Jedi,” Krell sneered, “You’re just a boy.”

“I took the airbase,” He lifted his chin higher, “I destroyed the command ship. Call me foolish if I fail, but for now I am competent.”

The Jedi glowered at him, before an eerie calm spread across his expression. He chuckled darkly, “We haven’t won yet, boy.”

With that ominous remark, he walked away.

“If he weren’t a Jedi, he’d kill you,” Rex sighed in relief, “Good work, kid.”

He slumped, “I got Hardcase killed.”

“We can’t save everyone,” The Captain placed a hand on his shoulder, “We just have to ensure their sacrifices are worth it.”

If they gave up, then those who died...they died for nothing. He needed to keep going otherwise what was the point? He nodded, glad none of them tried to absolve him of guilt. He didn’t think he could handle it if they tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t close enough to any of them for that conversation.

Tough love was what he was used to.

“What time is it?” He demanded.

“Local time?” Jesse asked back, “Or standard?”

“Standard,” He pulled himself together again. Something was telling him this wasn’t over.

They gave him the time on Coruscant. He acknowledged them absently, then shoved himself off towards somewhere he could be alone.

Kenobi meditated a lot for someone who didn’t have room for it in his schedule. First thing in the morning to center himself and prepare for the day. Another session in the afternoon to dive into the Living Force. He could check on other Jedi then, far more effective than any report. His final session was in the evening, dedicated to the Cosmic Force.

Ahsoka was the one who translated that for him. The Cosmic Force was a fancy way of saying the dead.

Just like Mando’ade, the Jedi believed those who died weren’t gone. As long as there was someone to remember them, their presence lived on. Kenobi had a long list of people he believed were worth remembering.

Boba only had one until now.

He knelt as soon as he was fully alone, bowing his head, “I’m still alive, but you are dead…”

***********************************

“...I remember you, so you are eternal,” Korkie recited.

His list was long. Not quite as long as Commander Cody’s or his father’s, but long enough he could feel some of the men getting impatient. He once again wondered if it was allowed to remember the enemy. Was it disrespectful to think of them when he was in part responsible for them being dead? He liked to think it wasn’t.

After all, they were all victims in this war. None of them were the instigators here. Whether Umbara came under Republic control or remained under Separatist wouldn’t affect the outcome of the war.

Yet they fought. So he’d remember them, even if he would never know their names.

His thoughts stuttered on the newest additions.

He picked up his blaster and rose. Waxer placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you sure you want to keep going?”

Korkie nodded, “If the airbase is lost, we need to take it back.”

General Krell reported they were under attack. He told them he managed to keep control of the main building, but those who were left wouldn’t last long. He warned them the Umbarans stripped the fallen of their armor and wore it.

Maybe they knew how much of an insult that was. Maybe they just hoped to infuriate them.

Either way, he needed to be at this fight. If Boba was...gone, then he would reclaim his armor. Stars, he should have dragged him back to the 212th himself when Ahsoka and Feemor left. He shouldn’t have left him with a General he couldn’t trust. Maybe then he wouldn’t have run off and gotten himself killed.

Though hopefully he wasn’t dead. Boba wasn’t Force-sensitive, so his father couldn’t be certain, but the Mand’alor believed he would have sensed Boba’s death.

So they had that going for them. Jedi magic.

As they kept marching, he found himself fiddling with Skywalker’s old lightsaber. He was supposed to work on getting out of his own head. He depended too much on his wits and words. He needed to trust his body’s instincts, to act where action was needed. His thumb brushed over the button.

He hadn’t ignited the blade outside of training.

He was failing.

“Enemy spotted,” Boil reported, “They’re wearing the 501st’s armor.”

They passed him the scope. It wasn’t hard to spot Boba’s armor.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious. The Umbarans showed no signs of using child soldiers. What were the odds there was someone small enough to fit in Boba's armor? Even if they did have someone the right size, what monster would put on a dead child’s armor? If he took just a minute to think, he would have seen the truth.

Instead, he jumped ahead of the 212th. He ignited his lightsaber and jetpack, deadly intent on whatever sleemo killed Boba and was wearing his armor as a trophy.

His father’s old lightsaber met his in the middle, as shots started to be fired from their men.

It took a few moments to settle into the forms he’d practiced relentlessly.

Of course, that’s when his opponent stopped, “Korkie?”

The voice was familiar, even through the helmet, “Boba?”

Boba’s helmet came off to reveal his face, which was quickly paling, “Fucking Krell.”

Oh.

This was a trap. A terrible trap.

“Cease fire!” He shouted, holding up his lightsaber, “Stop!”

Boba was shouting the same back towards the 501st. The order was relayed down the line, but every shot fired could mean another trooper injured. He exchanged a horrified look with the younger kid. Anyone who died here was killed by a vod’e. Brothers killed brothers. He mentally calculated their medical supplies.

He pulled off his helmet, “Kriff, Boba.” He pulled the smaller boy into an embrace, “We got a report that you died.”

“We got a report that you died,” For once, he didn’t pull away from the affectionate gesture.

He let himself relish in his presence. He thought it would be weird to share his mother with someone else, but she genuinely enjoyed speaking to Boba, and Boba needed a parent. Ahsoka had the Jedi Order. She had Master Koon. He was blessed to have both his parents. Boba’s father was dead, and he was constantly reminded of him any time he spoke to a trooper.

They hadn’t acknowledged each other as such yet...

But when he thought he was dead, he couldn't accept it. His life was changing, and Boba was with him through it. Boba was supposed to be there for the rest of his life.

For him to just be gone...

“Korkie,” Waxer broke through the moment, “This wasn’t an accident.”

“Krell’s been trying to kill us,” Rex added, “I didn’t think he’d go this far…”

Boba pulled back, “How many are injured?”

How many more names would he have to remember?

“Korkie,” Boil stared at him, his face pale.

He closed his eyes, “We’ll need to arrest Krell then.”

“Arrest a Jedi?” Longshot asked.

“Arrest a traitor,” He corrected, “Now that he’s revealed himself, he’ll be more dangerous.”

“We should contact the General,” Waxer frowned, “It would be dangerous for us to act against a Jedi-General.”

“Father needs to secure the capitol,” Korkie grimaced, “Boba and I will handle the arrest.”

“What if you can’t arrest him?” Rex asked.

“Then we kill him,” Boba decided.

“Kill a Jedi?” Fives echoed.

“It’s possible,” The youngest looked determined, “If we don’t and he gets away, who knows what he’ll tell the Separatists?”

The troopers exchanged looks.

“This has to be a group decision,” Waxer looked down, “We’ll need all of us to beat him.”

There wasn’t much choice. They couldn’t pull his father away from the main focus of the campaign. It was all they could do to send some of the 212th to reclaim the airbase. But if they didn’t stop Krell, the whole Umbara campaign would be jeopardized. He leaned against a nearby tree as more men voiced their agreement.

“Korkie?” Boba approached slowly, “Fighting a Jedi…”

“Your dream, right?” He managed a wry grin, “And this one deserves to be killed.”

“The 212th are going to cut off his escape routes,” The youngest tried to sound reassuring, but was too worried for it, “Rex and I are leading the confrontation.”

Korkie nodded. It made sense. He reached out to grab his shoulder, “Don’t die.”

“You as well,” Boba turned away, “Brother.”

“Brother.”

***********************************

In the end, Korkie pulled the trigger.

It wasn’t planned. Rex said he would go through with the execution. The Umbarans were going to retake the airbase and they couldn’t retreat with a dangerous prisoner. They fought so hard to capture him…

Korkie intended to listen and witness.

But as Krell droned on and on about how the Jedi were going to lose this war...how the troopers were mindless and naive…He understood how his words cut the troopers deeper than his betrayal. There were very few things the troopers could depend on. The inherent goodness of the Jedi they served under was supposed to be one of them.

At least Skywalker never hurt intentionally hurt them.

He didn’t think twice about it. He was hurting the troops, and he needed to stop.

So he stopped him.

“He deserved it,” Korkie whispered.

“He did,” Boba agreed, but still took the blaster away from him.

He closed his eyes, “All for a vision.”

“He was an idiot,” His younger brother said softly.

“I’m still alive,” He started, his voice breaking, “But you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.”

This was the first enemy he killed he could place a name to.

Boba’s hand slipped into his, “We need to go, brother.”

Korkie nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to regret pulling the trigger. He couldn’t bring himself to feel much of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I kept debating how much of the Umbara arc I would actually change, before ultimately deciding two boys wouldn't change much. As for the exclusion of Dogma...well, Anakin proved Jedi aren't infallible so he didn't put as much faith in Krell. 
> 
> The plot will start advancing faster now! I'm actually managing to write this at the same time as another fic, but that's a characters watch the series fic so it's a lot easier to write. Maybe once I'm done with both I'll try a Star Wars watch the series, if I could decide what would even be shown...
> 
> Thank you to all who support this story! Your comments are so encouraging!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm writing this as I post it so any ideas are welcome and encouraged!
> 
> Also, wookiepedia can only get me so far in the finer details so if anything needs fixing, just let me know!


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